In a Blink of an Eye
by Shawne 'til dawn
Summary: Bad things happen to good people all the time and life can change in a blink of an eye.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

_A very Happy Mother's Day to all of you wonderful ladies who have children. Being a __teacher and a mother myself, I know how very crucial and important having a great role model is to a child's development and nothing can beat the love of a caring and nurturing mother. I hope all you moms out there have an awesome day for there is no one more deserving of being honored than you! _

_Although this story has nothing to do with Mother's Day, I am back again with another tale to tell. As of yet, I don't really know how many chapters this story will consist of, but I hope that you will be content to just ride along with me on this journey. I had promised a dear friend of mine that I would post the prologue and the first chapter this weekend, so here I am! As always, I look forward to hearing from you and I hope that you enjoy this first sampling of more to follow. Once again, please take the time to read the warning above, for I truly don't want to offend anyone, and it is never my intention to do so. _

_ Love and light to you always . . . Shawne 'Til Dawn_

**~ In a Blink of an Eye ~**

**~Prologue~**

_"Why don't you sit down over there? I'm told that armchair is the most comfortable seat I have here in my office . . . how does it feel?"_

_"Okay."_

_"Great! Would you like some coffee or tea? I have cream and sugar or . . ."_

_"Look . . . can we just get to the point? I don't wanna be here and the more small talk you make, just means that it'll take longer to leave."_

_"Okay. I totally understand, Dave. So . . . why don't you tell me why you're here."_

_"Read the report on your desk. I'm sure ya know why I'm here."_

_(A quiet chuckle fills the room.)_

_"I've read the report, but I'd like to hear it from you. What happened, Dave?"_

_(A heavy sigh fills the silence.)_

_"Dave?"_

_"I don' know . . . guess I lost it."_

_"I see. What made you 'lose' it?"_

_"Read the report!"_

_"Tell me. I get paid to listen to you."_

_(A soft snort and a brief lopsided grin.)_

_"What do you wanna know?"_

_"Everything. Start from the beginning."_

_(Another heavy sigh.)_

_"It's okay, Dave. I read the report remember?"_

_(Another brief grin, damp hands rubbing anxiously against jean-clad thighs.)_

_"Okay. Well . . .we, me and Hutch, he's my partner you saw outside. Anyway, we responded to a 415 a coupl'a months ago . . ."_

_"A 415?"_

_"Disturbance of the peace."_

_"Oh, okay. Go on . . ."_

_"So we get to the address and we knock and wait for someone to answer the door . . ."_

**~Chapter 1~**

They had waited patiently after politely knocking on the stained portal, but it was the stifled scream that came from within that made the detectives draw their weapons and quickly take action. With his back pressed against the wall and his gun pointing straight up, Starsky shifted his eyes to his partner, nodding slightly as Hutch forcefully kicked in the flimsy door, splintering it easily with a sharp blow from the flat bottom of his large shoe. As always, the brunet went low while the blond remained high, their timing was perfect and in sync. Like a well-oiled machine, both men cautiously stepped into the filthy home, their guns leading the way, their footsteps muffled on the threadbare carpet.

It was obvious to both cops that the living room had been hastily abandoned; a lit cigarette still burned in the stinking tuna can that posed as an astray and sat at the edge of the scarred wooden table near one end of the stained and dilapidated couch. Hutch took the left, checking the bedroom and the bathroom while Starsky warily moved into the kitchen. A half eaten bag of potato chips and an open can of beer lay on the counter nearest the stove, evidence that someone had been in the kitchen not too long before. Starsky continued to look around.

_Nothing_.

The brunet could feel his heart thumping in response to the adrenalin rushing through his body as his dark blue eyes alighted upon the narrow closed door that led from the kitchen to the basement below. Starsky glanced at his partner who stepped silently into the kitchen then shifted his eyes to the door. Hutch nodded in response, knuckles whitening around the handle of the cannon he held firmly in his hand, following just behind his dark haired counterpart.

The call had come from dispatch, a 415, disturbance of the peace. Neighbors reported crying and screaming coming from this residence and Starsky and Hutch had responded immediately as they were nearest the vicinity. When they first got there Starsky thought it might have been a false alarm, but hearing the soft whimpering sound coming from within the house just minutes ago made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The brunet reached out and slowly turned the knob, silently opening the door to the basement.

The musty smell of antiquated junk and stale air assailed the nostrils of the detectives as they descended. Both cops squinted, allowing their eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness that engulfed them as they cautiously made their way down the rickety wooden steps that seemed to lead them deep into the bowels of the earth. The dark haired detective glanced over his shoulder making eye contact with his blond partner, grimacing slightly as the stairs protested loudly, creaking and groaning under each well placed step of Starsky's blue nylon covered Adidas. Though they strained to see, they could make nothing out except the vague gray shapes of stacked boxes that lined the nearest wall.

"Stop where you! Don't come any closer . . . I'm warning you!"

A disembodied voice called out from the darkness and both detectives instantly stilled; carefully listening to the soft, but frantic whispering that remained unintelligible to straining ears. A quiet rustling could be heard, a chain being yanked, and then a sickly yellow light that dimly lit the interior of the basement made both detectives squint once more. The swaying bulb hanging overhead created shadows that drifted to and fro and Starsky's eyes widened as he caught sight of the hefty, balding man who stood to the far side of the room, his meaty hands held his victim roughly in front of him. The young boy was naked, bruised and battered; his green eyes seemed lifeless and dazed as he stared straight ahead at the detectives, yet saw nothing. It was obvious to both detectives that the boy was in shock.

"You come any closer and I'll kill him. I swear!" the fat pedophile snarled, the knife he held against the boy's jugular vein pressed deeper, nicking the pale, tender skin as droplets of blood welled beneath the sharpened blade. Though it must have stung, Hutch noted that the traumatized boy hadn't even flinched.

The fat man's face suddenly softened and look of fear crossed his chubby, flushed features. Although a nervous tic appeared under the assailant's left eye, he tightened his hold onto the youngster. "Y-you gotta let me go. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to -- it never went this far before. I don't know what happened. It just kinda g-got away from me, you know? The perpetrator stammered as sweat dripped and beaded on the top of his glistening head, the flickering light distorting his features as it swayed overhead.

"Take it easy," Starsky whispered, his voice rough with suppressed emotions. "Just . . . just let the kid go and we can work something out, okay? Release the boy and . . ."

"F-fuck you! Don't lie to me. I ain't no dummy. Stand b-back and drop your guns or I'm gonna slice him open, y'hear me?" the man snapped, his face hardening again, dark eyes flashing with each swing from the bulb overhead. The hand holding the knife was shaking so badly; it was obvious that the pedophile was losing it.

Starsky's dark blue eyes narrowed, growing brighter with the anger he was barely containing as he looked at the battered kid. Blatantly ignoring the fat man, Starsky softly called out, "Sean? Is that your name?" The boy's unfocused gaze shifted slowly to the curly haired cop, flickering briefly with life and understanding before the hefty arm brutally holding him cinched even tighter and the young boy's eyes became hazy and dull once more.

Sean Fitzgerald, green eyes, dark blond hair, nearly 10 years old. It had to be him. He'd been missing since Saturday afternoon. An A.P.B. had been put out on the kid after his mother's frantic call to the station alerted everyone to his disappearance from the park, the boy's usual stomping ground. Starsky glanced back at Hutch and saw his partner's imperceptible nod, the blond confirming silently what Starsky already suspected.

"You think I'm fuckin' jokin', don't you?" the bald man snapped, his breathing ragged and unsteady. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed, blinking away the sting of sweat that dripped from his stubby lashes. When he looked at the detectives once more, tears welled in his dark eyes and his thick bottom lip quivered. "I just wanna get out of here, okay? I m-made a huge mistake. I don't know what's wrong with me. I shouldn'ta done what I did, but he's still alive, right? That's gotta count for somethin' . . . r-right?"

"Yes, it does. Take it easy, man. What's your name, sir?" Hutch asked quietly. Though his voice was soothing and calm, Starsky could see the fire burning behind the ice blue of his partner's eyes.

"Name's Frank," the fat man whispered, his voice lowering as it echoed the quiet volume of the blond haired cop. "Please, officer, I'm s-sorry for hurting the boy. He's just so beautiful y'know? So beautiful with his long lashes and his jade green eyes and I . . . I took him and I . . . did some stuff with him, but he's okay. He really is. I promise."

Starsky could feel the anger boiling within as he stared at Sean who was obviously so brutalized and traumatized that he had retreated deep within, locking himself away from the horrific reality of the past three days. The little boy was naked and shivering; the bruises standing out against the paleness of his freckled skin made the cop want to scream in frustration. But it was the boy's eyes that made Starsky's heart hurt the most. Those mossy green eyes, fringed with heavy dark lashes, were now vacant and void of any emotion or recognition of the danger that he was in and seeing it made Starsky's gut roil and burn.

It killed the brunet to know that they got there too late, to know that the good guys probably wouldn't even have found Sean until much later if it hadn't been for some nosy and irritated neighbors. To find the boy this way was like taking a punch in the stomach. Like everyone else, Starsky had seen the pictures Sean's mother had given to the station of her son and it was the boy's eyes that had drawn Starsky in; eyes that were once filled with joy and exuberance were now dead and lifeless and the dark haired cop could feel himself angrily clenching the handle of his gun, his finger restlessly rubbing against the trigger.

"Listen to me, Frank," Hutch began softly, "Everyone makes mistakes. Just give me the knife and let the boy go. Me and my partner will help you, but you have to trust us. Just move away from the kid . . ."

"No!" Frank shouted, his arm tightening around the youngster, the sharp blade unintentionally pressing harder against Sean's neck. A look of anger and hate twisted the predator's face, changing him from the weepy man who seconds ago was begging for understanding, into this mentally unstable and hostile monster. The soft gasp that came from the naked boy made Starsky unconsciously take a step forward, the brunet innately needing to comfort and protect the scared and traumatized child from further abuse.

Frank's bloodshot eyes widened as he glared at the dark haired cop. "Don't fuckin' move! You think I'm lying? That I don't have the balls to do it?" The fat man frantically shouted, his knife hand shaking as it scratched the tender skin of the boy, spilling even more blood. The yelling and the shallow slice made the young boy quake even more and his green eyes darted to Starsky's face; losing it's dazed look as pain and fear widened the green pupils even more.

"Frank! Take it easy! Calm down!" Hutch interjected, raising his own voice to be heard above the shouting from the balding man, his free hand reaching out to hold his partner back from taking another step towards the frightened child. "Just calm down, Frank, we're here to help you, okay?" The tall blond cop could see how Frank was barely holding it together, jumping back and forth between two personality types. Hutch had to silently wonder if the perp was schizophrenic, or just overly nervous and guilt ridden. In any case, there was no time for speculation as the now lucid young boy suddenly cried out, his voice soft and strangled.

"P-please . . . help me! I want . . . I want my mama . . ." The young boy's beseeching eyes never left Starsky's face and the brunet could feel himself inadvertently moving forward once more, responding to the terror he could hear in the kid's voice.

Frank's eyes narrowed in anger as his thick forearm shoved against the Sean's fragile windpipe, the blade hovering against the pulsing jugular of the boy. "Fucking shit! You asked for it, it's your fault the kid's gonna die!" Both detectives lunged forward, but not before the fat man yanked the sharp blade down, dragging the razor-like tip across the throat of the child, violently pushing Sean away so that he could make his own escape.

"Nooooo!" Starsky shouted; fear and anger merging together as he caught the boy before he could hit the unforgiving ground while Hutch ran after the murderous pedophile. The curly haired cop hurriedly laid the child flat onto the dirty concrete, shoved his gun into the back waistband of his jeans, and then whipped off his leather jacket, covering the bleeding boy, surrounding him in comforting warmth. Quickly tearing off his tee-shirt, Starsky pressed the fabric against the gaping slice on the boy's throat. The brunet hovered over the child, his fingers trembling as the cloth beneath his hand grew warm and saturated with blood. Though he vaguely heard sirens approaching in the distance, all Starsky could see were the boy's green eyes staring up at him in the dim swaying light, silently begging the cop to save him.

"Hang on, Sean, h-hang on!" Starsky stammered, his own throat bobbing convulsively as he swallowed down the bile that rose from his gut. He watched as the boy's pale lips moved, forming words that couldn't as yet be heard. "Shh . . . don't talk, just hang on! It's gonna be okay, help is on the way."

The brunet could see Sean struggling to say something amid the tiny gasps of air that he tried to take in. Pushing the cloth harder against the open wound, Starsky continued to murmur inane reassurances while he unconsciously lowered his head closer the boy's face.

"M-ma . .. ma . .."

Tears welled up in the cop's eyes and Starsky quickly blinked them away as he once again looked into those hauntingly green eyes that were growing dimmer by the second. "She's coming, Sean. You hear me?" the brunet raised his voice, panicking as the boy's trembling body suddenly shook violently beneath his hands. "She's been lookin' all over for you, so you gotta hang on, okay? You hear me, Sean? Your ma loves you so much and she's comin' for ya . . ."

Starsky could feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he saw the pale face nod imperceptibly while long dark lashes gently lowered, hiding the green eyes that had hazed over once more before they became forever sightless. Starsky shook his head, refusing to give up, pressing harder against the boy's throat.

"No . . ." the cop whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. "No!"

Inwardly, the brunet knew Sean was dead, that the spirit that lit those green eyes had been snubbed out like the burning end of a cigarette crushed against the bottom of a dirty ashtray. Starsky knew that the trembling beneath his hands were not the bruised and battered body of the naked little boy, but the quaking he felt in his own cold and heavy limbs. Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head in denial, the dark haired cop continued to administer first aid to the still warm body beneath his hands.

"Starsk?"

He heard them comin' before Hutch even called out. Loud footsteps made their way down the rickety staircase, but Starsky continued to press the heavy cloth against Sean's neck, whispering soft words of comfort to the still and lifeless child.

"Starsky?"

Hutch faltered, pushing the cuffed man before him as the swaying bulb that had finally come to a stop encircled his partner and the little boy in a sickly circle of yellow light. He could see Starsky crouched over the boy, shirtless and shaking. His hands were stained red and flecks of blood were splattered over his forearms and chest.

"Oh my God! I told you! I told you . . ." Frank cried out, dark eyes narrowed as a look of rage passed over his face. "You fuckin' bastard, you killed him! You killed my beautiful boy! You just couldn't listen, could you? I told you not to come closer. I warned you! You wanted me to do it, didn't you? You wanted me to kill my sweet boy because you wanted him for yourself! Didn't you? You sick fuck!"

Hutch's eyes widened in surprise as his partner lunged for the handcuffed man, angrily pushing the blond back in the process. Starsky grabbed the fat man with a snarl and brutally slammed Frank against the wall only to hammer his fists repeatedly into the soft belly of the pedophile, ending with an uppercut to the flabby jaw of the bald man. The older man's legs gave out and Starsky quickly dragged him back up as Frank began to slump to the floor.

The brunet's voice was low and ominous as he hissed, "I'm gonna kill you, you sick son of a bitch! The world don't need any more scums like you! You're nuthin' but a low life piece of shit!" Blue eyes shot hot daggers of hate and rage at the fat, trembling man who quaked and moaned in pain.

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted. "That's enough!" The blond haired cop reached over to lay his hand upon his partner's shoulder only to have his dark haired counterpart slap it away. Hutch stared at his partner, noting the wild and angry look that blazed in a sea of cobalt blue. "Starsk?"

"Back off, Hutch!" Starsky snapped, his lip curling in a feral snarl. "See this?" the brunet held up his hands, blood stained and sticky, ignoring the pedophile as he dropped heavily to the floor. "The kid didn't stand a chance, Hutch. His blood is all over me. You didn't watch the light go out from his eyes, or hear him calling for his mother, but I did! It was pitiful and this bastard needs to be wasted . . ." Starsky immediately turned his back on his partner and began to kick the downed man, bracing his blood stained hands against the wall to give him leverage as he used the power of his legs to brutally smash Frank into the concrete. Each well-placed kick slightly lifted the hefty man, rocking him into the hollow-tiled wall as painful grunts and cries filled the dimly lit basement.

"Starsk! I said that's enough!" Hutch repeated, grabbing his partner by the shoulder to push him away from the battered man. The blond cop bent to help the cuffed and beaten perpetrator to his feet, but the familiar 'click' behind him made Hutch freeze, the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in wariness. Hutch slowly turned, ice blue eyes widening as he took in the gun pointed straight at him.

"I said to back off, Hutch!" Starsky snarled, cobalt eyes narrowing in anger. The brunet shoved his partner to the side and aimed the gun he'd drawn from the back of his jeans at the broken man who still lay crumpled at his feet.

"P-please . . . no . . . I'm sorry. Don't shoot! I don't wanna die . . ." Frank sobbed as he rolled to his side, tears streaming down his pudgy cheeks. "I don't wanna die. Please! I just made a mistake! I don't wanna die!"

"You should've thought of that before you sliced the kid open!" Starsky snarled, stepping in close to viciously kick the downed man once again. A feral smile smeared the brunet's face as the pedophile screamed in pain once more.

"Starsky . . ." Hutch began gently, his voice soothing and calm. "Listen to me, buddy."

Hutch swiped his tongue against his lower lip as his partner turned to look at him, the deep and turbulent blue of the sea meshed with the soft azure of the sky. Hutch took in a calming breath and spoke, using the voice and honey-laced tone that he only reserved for his partner. He could see the fine tremors that wracked the brunet's body, could see the heavy lift of his friend's chest as Starsky rapidly took in the air he needed to calm himself down.

Never losing eye contact, Hutch began, "I know you're hurting, Starsk; that watching the boy die in your arms makes you want to lash out and seek vengeance, but let's do this the right way, okay?" The blond haired cop spoke softly, taking small tentative steps towards his dark haired counterpart who breathed heavily in the quiet stillness of the room.

Hutch moved closer, his hand held out in an entreating manner. No one knew Starsky better than the blond, and Hutch knew he needed to tread lightly. His partner was hurt and fragile, like a wild and wounded panther ready to lash out at anyone who came near. Hutch could see the confusion that clouded his partner's eyes as he drew closer; the brunet was filled with pain and anger. Hutch knew that Starsky would never have drawn and pointed his gun towards him unless he was near to losing it. His dark haired friend was balancing on the edge of a precipice and only compassion and gentleness would tame the fire that burned in Starsky's bright, blue eyes.

"Starsky, we'll take him in and let the law met out the punishment he deserves. If you blow him away now, buddy, you'd be taking the law into your own hands. You'd be no better than a vigilante and it'll be _you_ the law will come after." Hutch's eyes softened even more as he stared into the familiar blue flames of sapphire. "You're my partner, my friend, and I wouldn't want to have to hunt you down, Starsky. It would kill me to do that!"

Hutch slowly reached out to gently touch his partner, relying on non-verbal skills to relay to his wounded friend how much he cared. Laying the warmth of his large hand upon the shoulder of the brunet, Hutch could feel the imperceptible tremors shaking his partner. "It's okay, Starsk, I'm here now. It'll be okay, buddy."

"It'll never be okay for him." The dark haired cop nodded towards the small lifeless body; pale mottled skin almost seemed to glow under the dim light from the hanging bulb. The dark bruises and red rivulets of blood stood out gruesomely under the waning light. "It'll never be okay for his ma neither."

Hutch swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the abject hurt and weariness he heard in his partner's rough and broken voice. "I know, buddy. I know."

What more could he say? Hutch gently squeezed his partner's shoulder and then moved his hand to rub small circles onto the brunet's bare back, watching as small goose bumps rose on the muscled arm that held the gun up, knuckles whitened as it gripped the handle tighter.

"Give me the gun, pal." Hutch whispered. "Let's do our job the right way and take this scum in. Let the law deal with what he did here today."

"They'll let him out. You know that. Somehow they always do."

Hutch continued to rub circles, easing the strained muscles on his partner's back. There was nothing he could say to his partner's last comment. Too many times it was as Starsky predicted; the bad guys were often released faster than they could bring them in. The blond cop nodded silently in agreement and then slowly reached for the gun, covering his large hand over the brunet's, feeling Starsky ease up on his hold of the Baretta. "That's it, buddy. Just give me the gun."

Hutch gently removed the weapon from his partner's cold and limp fingers. "That's it, Starsk, it'll be okay."

"Will it?" Starsky asked softly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at his best friend and partner.

Hutch could hear the tired resignation in his friend's voice and he swallowed the thick lump that formed in his throat. The tall blond cop could see the pain in his partner's eyes as it desperately searched his own. Gently turning his friend around, Hutch wrapped the trembling brunet in the warmth of his embrace, squeezing gently on the nape of Starsky's neck, feeling the familiar curls brush against his hand as the dark haired cop pressed his forehead against Hutch's.

"You gonna make it?" Hutch asked after a brief moment of silence. He could feel the slight nod before Starsky sighed and then answered.

"Yeah. 'M fine."

Hutch snorted softly, "Yeah, I know you are." The tall blond gently ruffled the top of his partner's sable curls as Starsky silently pulled away and then said, "Let's get this asshole out of here and then we'll call for the coroner's team, okay?"

"'Kay." Starsky mumbled. Both cops turned quickly to look back at the quiet shuffle that came from the stairwell. Standing at the bottom of the rickety steps stood two patrol officers who gaped at the detectives, guns drawn, eyes and mouths wide open.

Starsky pulled himself to stand erect at his full height, dark blue eyes shifted to look at his blond partner who wondered just how much those two patrolmen had witnessed.

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun. 

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

_Thank you so much for the warm feedback and words of encouragement. As another author once told me, "Reviews are like love and it keeps the writer writing." To be honest, I was very hesitant to post this story after what happened with "Thirty Minutes" and its removal from FFN, but I am glad that the readers out there are taking this story, as just that -- a story – a work of fiction created for entertainment and enjoyment I don't think any author ever writes a tale to purposely offend anyone unless it was their intent to do so. All writers give up so much of their time to craft their stories and once the tale is posted, it is left solely, trustfully, in the hands of the reader to choose how he/she will perceive it. I hope that this story continues to draw you in and I hope as always, that you will choose to ride along with me on this journey from beginning to end. I totally welcome the company! And now I bring you chapter two . . ._

Love & light, Shawne

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

"'Kay." Starsky mumbled. Both cops turned quickly to look back at the quiet shuffle that came from the stairwell. Standing at the bottom of the rickety steps stood two patrol officers who gaped at the detectives, guns drawn, eyes and mouths wide open.

Starsky pulled himself to stand erect at his full height, dark blue eyes shifted to look at his blond partner who wondered just how much those two patrolmen had witnessed.

**~Chapter Two~**

A brisk Oregon breeze rushed in from the open window and ruffled long, fine tendrils of golden hair as the LTD sped by; tall pine trees whizzed past in a blur, making Hutch squint as he concentrated on the winding roads ahead. He could feel the nip in the air, the last days of fall were ending and winter was right around the corner. Hutch glanced over at his partner who lay slouched against the passenger side of the door. The dark shades he wore hid the brilliant blue of his sapphire eyes and Hutch wasn't sure if Starsky was sleeping or not.

The tall blond sighed and rubbed a hand wearily over his face. A slight drizzle began to speckle the windshield and Hutch absently flipped on the wipers. It had been a long four and a half weeks since they stumbled upon the little boy who was killed in a dark and lonely basement; a long stress filled month since they witnessed Sean's horrific death. Their lives since then had been in turmoil and upheaval with reports and statements needing to be written and filed, with court appearances and the media circus hounding their every step. Internal Affairs had been breathing down their necks with their investigation into the alleged charges of police brutality filed against Starsky and it was all Hutch could do to keep it together as he watched his already brooding partner sinking lower into the depths of despair.

Even now, the blond could remember Starsky being called into the Captain's office the morning following the murder, after a long night of paperwork and the emotional visit to inform Sean's mother of her son's untimely death. Shaken as he was after the coroner's wagon carted the small body bag away, Starsky had insisted that they be the ones to personally inform Helen Fitzgerald about her son's murder. The sensitive blond knew how difficult it had been for his partner to speak to and comfort the distraught woman when he himself was so emotionally fragile, but it was the right thing to do, and Hutch could feel the admiration and high regard he always held for Starsky raise a notch higher.

Tired and drained, they had gone home to Hutch's place to try to sleep and though he didn't voice it at the time, Hutch had been more than worried about his silent, brooding partner, insisting that Starsky stay the night so that he could keep an eye on the hurting brunet. If he had known that their return to Metro the next morning would be bombarded by ugly accusations from Internal Affairs ending with Starsky's temporary suspension and their later departure to this mountain retreat owned by a friend of Huggy's, the blond would have quickly packed up his partner and hightailed it out of Bay City until the heat blew over. Hutch sighed again, his mind racing back to that awful day as sure as his car raced along the now wet roads that led towards the mountains they were headed for . . .

"_You want some coffee, pal?" Hutch asked, filling his mug with the thick gelatinous brew. Taking a sip, the blond shuddered and forced the vile, luke-warm liquid down his throat._

"_Nah," Starsky softly replied, eyeing his partner as Hutch took the seat behind his own desk. "Millie said drinking that crap would burn a hole in your gut."_

"_No kidding!" the blond grimaced. Hutch lowered the offensive cup and glanced over at his dark haired friend. He could see the strained weariness that lined his partner's face, the sadness that was still evident in the familiar blue of his eyes. The young boy's death had left its mark on the soft heart of the dark haired detective and Hutch could feel his own heart hurting, remembering the anguished face of his friend as he held Sean in his arms. _

"_Hey, buddy," Hutch began, reaching over to touch his partner, but stopping suddenly as the door to Dobey's office opened._

_They both looked up as Blanchard and Stiles quietly exited. The two uncomfortable patrolmen had their eyes glued to the floor and never once looked at the two detectives who sat behind their desks; walking quickly out of the squad room without saying a word._

_Staring at the open doorway to Dobey's office, Starsky sighed and then shifted his eyes to look over at his blond counterpart. "That don' look too good."_

"_No, it doesn't," Hutch agreed quietly. When they'd first walked into the squad room, they saw that Dobey's door was closed and was informed by Millie that the captain was meeting with Internal Affairs. Soon after, both detectives saw the patrolmen enter the office and knew it was only a matter of time before they too, were called in to take the proverbial hot seat._

"_Starsky? I want you to come in here!" Dobey's booming voice called out to the squad room from the open doorway of his office. _

_The brunet snorted with resignation and then looked up from the report he was painstakingly typing, stormy blue eyes shifted to look at his partner sitting across from him, noting the deep grooves that marred the blond's forehead. Like Hutch, he knew the names of the two monkeys in suits who were currently occupying their Captain's time --good old Simonetti and his shadow Dreyden. There was something about those two I A boys that both detectives hated and it wasn't only because of the run in they had with them several months ago regarding the murder of Hutch's ex-wife Vanessa. _

_Starsky sighed heavily and then looked at his blond counterpart who smiled sympathetically. Lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, Starsky whispered resignedly, "Well, it looks like the sideshow's about to begin." The handsome brunet wearily pushed his chair back and stood up only to hear his partner simultaneously rising. Starsky glanced over his shoulder, one brow rose in question as the tall blond followed closely behind him. _

"_Where ya goin', Blondie?" Starsky asked, turning to face his silent partner who dogged his heels. Dark blue eyes connected to the color of the sky and a slight grin lifted the corner of the brunet's mouth as he said, "Think Dobey called __**my**__ name and not yours, pal."_

_Hutch knew the cards were stacked against his partner; that I A would have a field day with the report from Blanchard and Stiles. Already the gossip was flying rampantly around the water fountain of how Starsky had attacked the pedophile and how charges were being filed against the brunet for police brutality by the perpetrator. The tall blond snorted softly, his voice soft like melted butter as Hutch leaned towards the brunet and_ _whispered. "Yeah, well . . . me and thee right? It's who do we trust time and I'm not about to let you go into that office alone with those two idiots."_

_Sapphire eyes widened slightly before Hutch saw only the dark curls on the crown of his partner's lowered head. "Starsk?" The tall blond reached out with one hand and gently squeezed the tight muscles in his partner's shoulder. He could hear the brunet take in a deep cleansing breath before Starsky lifted his head once more, his throat convulsing as the brunet struggled to contain the emotion brought on by the blond's sentimental words_.

"_Yeah," the dark haired cop whispered gruffly, his voice filled with suppressed emotion, his eyes softening to lavender blue. "Thanks, Hutch. Don' know what I wouldn'a done last night if you weren't there to . . ."_

"_You would have booked Frank and read him his rights just like we always do, just like we did last night." Hutch calmly interjected, his voice though soft, was confident and steadfast._

"_I don' know. I came pretty close to losin' it, Blondie." Starsky whispered, shaking his head slowly. "The way I was last night, I think that I . . ."_

"_Starsky? We don't have all day!" Dobey's impatient bellow interrupted whatever Starsky was about to say and the brunet squared his shoulders and reluctantly turned towards the Captain's office with a determined Hutch following right behind him. _

"_Sit down, Starsky," Dobey said as he moved his wide girth behind his desk. The large, dark man eyed his detective, noting the tired lines and dark circles that bruised the tender flesh under Starsky's stormy blue eyes. The captain watched as Starsky looked on with contempt at the two suits who stood to the side of the file cabinet._

"_Captain, I don't think we need Detective Hutchinson in here with us." Dreyden began, not waiting for the brunet to take a seat. "What we have to say is confidential and for Detective Starsky's ears alone . . ."_

"_Whatever you have say to me, you can spill it in front of him," Starsky curtly interjected, nodding his chin towards his blond counterpart. "We're partners."_

_Simonetti jutted out his chin, his beady eyes glittering with undisguised loathing for the handsome brunet. "Okay then," the small curly haired man began, glancing over at his taller partner. "Give me the reports, Dreyden." Taking the papers from the tall black man, the smaller man made a show of perusing the documents, lifting his eyes from the paper to look at the dark haired detective._

"_Says here, that you enjoyed beating Frank Mahoney to a pulp."_

"_Stick to the facts, Simonetti, or I'll call upstairs for someone else to take this case," Dobey snapped, his bloodshot eyes flared hotly with disdain at the boys from Internal Affairs._

_Simonetti cleared his throat and then said, "Okay. You want the facts? Here it is. Charges are being brought against you, Starsky, for the beating of Frank Mahoney who right now, is laid up at Memorial with three fractured ribs, multiple contusions, a bruised spleen and a black eye. His lawyers are calling it police brutality."_

"_That's a bunch of crock!" Hutch snapped; pale blue eyes flashing menacingly as he glared at the smaller man in the suit._

"_Really?" Dreyden questioned. "We just got the written report from Officers Stiles and Blanchard describing what they saw last night." The tall black man walked over and read the papers over his partner's shoulder. "Says here that you threatened to kill Mahoney and that you even drew your gun and pointed it at Hutchinson. That true, Starsky?"_

_Starsky looked up from the spot he was staring at on the far wall. The curly haired brunet glanced quickly at his tall blond partner before he cleared his throat and softly said, "Yeah . . . it's true."_

"_Both Blanchard and Stiles reported that you were kicking the perpetrator while he was down and cuffed. Oh my!" Simonetti widened his eyes in mock disbelief, palming the side of his face. "And you took the oath as an officer of the law to serve and protect -- beating on a man who wasn't even able to defend himself. Tsk, tsk, tsk! You are quite the bully, don't you think, Detective?" _

"_He was a pervert! He killed the kid right before our eyes." Hutch growled, rising to the defense of his silent partner. "The boy died in Starsky's arms calling out for his mother."_

_Dreyden held up his large hand to stop the blond's outburst. "Please, tell it in your report, Hutchinson. Oh yeah, that's right . . . you haven't turned it in yet, have you?"_

_Dobey turned to glare at his detective. "Hutch?"_

" _I was working on it before we got pulled in here by these two idiots." _

"_If you can't stomach the truth, you can always leave; there's the door." Simonetti sneered at the red-faced blond and said, "We told you from the start, Hutchinson, that your presence wasn't needed here so by all means, get the hell out if you want."_

"_Leave him alone," Starsky snapped, bright blue eyes growing dark with anger. "Just cut to the chase, Simonetti. Whatever you have to say, just spill it!"_

_Although Simonetti glared angrily at the brunet, a smug smile smeared his face as he walked over to the dark haired cop with his palm extended out. "Okay. How's this for cutting to the chase? Your gun and your shield . . . hand it over."_

"_What?" Hutch and Dobey said simultaneously._

_Simonetti ignored both men; his beady eyes locked upon the face of the handsome brunet who stood there, cobalt colored eyes boring holes into the smaller man's countenance. "Your gun and your badge, Starsky. I want it now."_

"_This is ridiculous!" Hutch exploded._

"_These are my men, Simonetti! Just what the hell are you trying to pull here?" Dobey snarled, lifting his heavy girth to stand and bristle at the officers from Internal Affairs._

"_Take it easy, Captain," Dreyden cut in. "Don't kill the messengers. We're just following procedures like everyone else. Starsky allegedly used unnecessary force in obtaining the perpetrator last night and until this investigation into his case is cleared, Starsky will be temporarily suspended from all duties and . . ."_

"_This is bullshit, Captain!" Hutch angrily interjected, light blue eyes turning to molten silver as he glared at Dobey from across his desk. "There's no reason that Starsky should be suspended. We caught the perp, arrested him and read him his rights. The guy murdered a little boy for God's sake. We witnessed the whole thing . . ."_

"_And that's why you can't leave until the investigation and trial into Sean Fitzgerald's case is over. They'll probably be calling you both to the stand as witnesses." Simonetti added, "And while that' s going on, we'll be doing our own investigation into the brutal and unnecessary force you used against Frank Mahoney, Starsky. Perhaps he ain't the only unstable one in this whole mess of a cas . . ."_

_Without a word, Hutch whirled and reached for the suited man only to find Starsky suddenly there holding his shoulders, preventing his angry partner from lashing out at Simonetti._

"_Hey . . ." Starsky said calmly; quietly, as light blue eyes angrily flashed and melded to the dark color of a stormy sea. "Take it easy, Hutch," the brunet soothed. "Like Dreyden said, they're just followin' procedures. No need to kill the messenger." Starsky's eyes softened with the fondness he felt for his tall blond friend as he slowly released his bristling partner, tapping Hutch gently on his shoulders as he let go. "Okay?"_

_Hutch sighed with frustration and then nodded, trying desperately to contain the rage that flared and tensed within him at the thought of what these two assholes were doing to his partner._

_Starsky grinned slightly, before nodding himself, "Okay, then. Can't have you punching this moron when I can do it myself . . ." Turning swiftly, Starsky drew back his left fist and decked Simonetti with a false crack to the smaller man's jaw. _

"_Starsky!" Dobey growled and came out from behind his desk as a grinning Dreyden calmly reached down to help his hurting partner to his feet. Dobey glared first at Simonetti who stood flexing his jaw, and then turned his bloodshot gaze upon his own dark haired detective who stood rubbing the knuckles of his left hand. "That's enough . . . both of you! I'll have none of that kind of behavior in my office."_

"_Sorry, Cap," Starsky mumbled as he glared the beady-eyed man, "But Simonetti just has that effect on me. It must be his outstanding people skills . . ."_

"_I said that's enough, Starsky!"_

_Simonetti glared at the curly haired cop then turned to look at the rotund black man. "It's because of this kind of behavior that Starsky is in hot water right now, Captain. I don't need a report to know that this detective is a loose cannon. I can surmise from today's demonstration alone that when Starsky's anger gets away from him he'll act rashly without thinking it through. Those kinds of actions get cops killed. Even if these charges are lifted, I think it would behoove Starsky to see a shrink about managing his anger before returning to the force and as such, he will need medical clearance from a psychologist before being allowed back to wor . . ."_

"_You can shove it, Simonetti!" Starsky snapped, blue eyes flashing daggers. "I ain't seein' no shrink. You can take this," the brunet pulled his wallet from his back pocket and snatched the badge within, then reached into his jacket to pull his gun from the hidden holster. "And this, and I'm outta here!" Slamming both items on Dobey's desk, the curly haired detective stormed out of the office, leaving Hutch to trail behind him._

_  
"Don't forget to turn in your paperwork, Hutchinson," Dreyden snipped as the tall blond passed by._

_Hutch turned as he neared the door, blue eyes glittering with suppressed anger. "You'll have your damn report, Dreyden, and my badge and gun tomorrow morning!"_

"_Hutch! Come back here . . ." Dobey growled as the door slammed shut behind his blond detective. "HUUUUTCH!"_

"Hutch? Hey . . . how much further?"

Hutch snapped back to the present as he turned his eyes from the road to his slouching partner. "Um . . . 'bout another couple of miles or so. You hungry? I thought you were sleeping."

"Nah" Starsky replied quietly. "Jus' thinkin' 's all." The brunet moodily eyed the pine trees whizzing past his window, the green color muted and blurred, reminding him of the lifeless eyes of a young murdered boy. Shuddering slightly as he mentally shook off that image Starsky gruffly asked, "How does Huggy know 'bout this place again?"

"It's his friend's cabin. Remember Turkey?" Hutch grinned.

The dark haired detective rolled his eyes and slouched even further. "How could I forget?"

"It's his family's cabin in the mountains near some small town in East Oregon. Huggy said that no one hardly goes there anymore since Turkey and all the kids in his parent's house have grown up."

"So tell me again . . . why are we goin' there?" Familiar blue eyes peeked inquisitively out from beneath lifted shades.

"Oh, I don' know," Hutch began. "Now that the trial is finally over and the charges from Mahoney have been dropped, I just thought it would be nice to get away from everything for awhile. We can relax and have a quiet week before we head on back to the city. Huggy says there's a lake nearby. Thought we could do some fishing and just kick back before you make that appointment to meet with th . . ."

"I don' wanna talk about it."

Silence ensued, and Hutch didn't have to look at his partner to know that Starsky was once again hiding behind his sunglasses, slouched against the door. His dark haired friend was withdrawing once more, escaping from the here and now into his brooding cave of silence and knowing this was trying the blond's patience.

Hutch knew his partner was hurting inside as he battled his inner demons. Knowing that Mahoney was locked away in Cabrillo State Ward for the criminally insane was no consolation for the brunet. Though the pedophile was diagnosed as suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and was put behind bars at a lock down ward in the asylum, Starsky still felt the sentence was far too lenient.

As for Internal Affairs' investigation into the charges made against Starsky, it too, was drawing to a close since Mahoney conceded on his end and the dark haired detective could once again get back to work. This of course was pending Starsky's agreement to seek consultation with a psychologist to determine if the detective's mental stability and anger issues might become a possible threat to himself, and to others. The findings from the doctor would be the determining factor that would allow Starsky the right to return to the force. All Starsky had to do was agree to the doctor's consultation session and they could put this whole nightmare behind them.

Hutch knew it grated on his partner's nerves to have to be put through the ringer like this, to be forced to see a shrink when he really didn't need to. Hell, it pissed Hutch off too, but there was no getting around it. As Dobey said when they later stormed his office, 'Rules and stipulations, are rules and stipulations, and whether they liked it or not, they would have to play the "game" to keep their jobs!'

Hutch sighed and then chewed on his bottom lip, hating the gulf between him and his partner that seemed to be growing deeper by the day. Glancing at Starsky, Hutch forced himself to keep his tone light and nonchalant. "Okay then, we don't have to talk about anything. We'll just enjoy some quiet time together and try to put all of this behind us. Okay?"

After waiting a few seconds, Hutch could feel the irritation creeping to the forefront at not receiving an answer from his moody partner. The blond took in a deep silent breath willing his frustration away.

It was definitely going to be a very long week indeed and Hutch silently prayed for the patience and the wisdom he would need to steer them both through the churning waters that he knew were just around the bend.

To be continued . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

_Thank you again for the warm feedback and words of encouragement. It's been a very busy week for me. Turned another year older on Thursday and I certainly feel it too. Getting so forgetful sometimes. Ha! I was almost afraid I wouldn't have a chance to post, but I made it! And it's only a day late! __big grin__thanks for understanding!__And now I bring you chapter three . . ._

Love & light, Shawne

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

Hutch sighed and then chewed on his bottom lip, hating the gulf between him and his partner that seemed to be growing deeper by the day. Glancing at Starsky, Hutch forced himself to keep his tone light and nonchalant. "Okay then, we don't have to talk about anything. We'll just enjoy some quiet time together and try to put all of this behind us. Okay?"

After waiting a few seconds, Hutch could feel the irritation creeping to the forefront at not receiving an answer from his moody partner. The blond took in a deep silent breath willing his frustration away.

It was definitely going to be a very long week indeed and Hutch silently prayed for the patience and the wisdom he would need to steer them both through the churning waters that he knew were just around the bend.

**~Chapter Three~**

"Do you think that Simonetti was right? That maybe you have some challenges when it comes to controlling your anger?"

"I dunno. You tell me. You're the one gettin' paid to give the answers, 'member?"

(A quiet chuckle.)

"Did anyone ever tell you, Dave, that you have a great sense of humor? That's an important character trait to have, especially in your line of work."

(Silence)

"So . . . you and your partner went to the cabin for some R & R. Tell me about that."

"What's there t'tell?"

"Oh . . . I don't know . . . how was this place? I mean, describe the cabin for me . . ."

"It was a pigsty! Hutch's place can be a dump sometimes, but this joint . . . it took the cake . . ."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The little cabin stood in a clearing as the battered LTD drew to a stop. Hutch stepped on the brake, shifting the gear into park. The tall blond glanced over at his silent partner who eyed the surrounding forest suspiciously. "You getting out anytime soon, Gordo?"

Starsky turned to glare at his grinning friend. "You suck, you know that? I bet there must be tons of spiders in that cabin, especially if no one's been in there for years!"

Hutch snorted. "Aw c'mon, buddy. A little dust never hurt anyone, Starsk. We'll just tidy up a bit and then unload our supplies and it'll be as good as your place back home; better even, since we're out in nature. No noise or pollution, just a lot of fresh air, blue skies and pine trees . . ."

"And bears and snakes and witches! I remember what happened the last time you dragged me to the woods!" Starsky grumbled, slowly unfolding his rigid frame as he opened the door and stepped out. "It's so quiet here. I hate it! If someone killed us, no one would find our bodies for years and years and . . . SHIT!" The dark haired detective jumped as the loud blaring sound of Hutch's horn reverberated in the stillness of the woods until the blond emerged from his side of the car and slammed the door. "Holy crap, Hutch. When the hell are you gonna fix that damn horn?"

Hutch chuckled. "Just trying to put you at ease, meathead. You were just whining about how it's too quiet here."

"Yeah, right! Always tryin' t'be so helpful!" Starsky grouched, mumbling under his breath as he turned to look around at the endless sea of pine trees. He could hear the cold wind whispering softly as it ruffled the curls on his head and Starsky pulled the ends of his white windbreaker together, zipping it up midway.

"Would appreciate some help here, buddy." Hutch said, voice muffled, flaxen colored head lost beneath the battered hood of the trunk.

Starsky heaved another sigh, taking one last suspicious look around at the foliage surrounding the cabin site. Walking to the rear of the car, Starsky began to help his partner unload the stuff the blond packed for the weeklong stay at Turkey's abandoned cabin. Smiling, Hutch cheerfully loaded several cardboard boxes into the arms of his partner, slamming the trunk and following the brunet with his own load to their "home" for the week.

The two detectives, one light, the other dark, climbed up the rickety wooden steps, balancing the juggling boxes as Hutch fished into the pocket of his thick blue flannel jacket to retrieve the key to the cabin, opening the rusted hinged door to a veil of cobwebs. After a fit of coughing, the weary brunet sighed again as he looked around at the simple, but dusty interior of the wooden abode. Using his free hand, Hutch pulled the webbing down and entered into the cool darkness of the wooden structure.

"Looks like the maid forgot to come." Starsky said snidely, sliding the boxes he carried onto the top of the scarred wooden table. Grabbing a box from Hutch to load next to the others, the brunet continued, "I mean, if you wanted to get away, Hutch, we could'a gone to some nice clean ritzy hotel, instead of a dump like this. Now we're gonna have'ta waste time cleanin' the joint." The tall blond ignored his partner's bitching and rummaged through one of the boxes.

Starsky rolled his eyes in agitation, realizing his partner wasn't even listening to his reasoning. "Hello? You even listening to my . . ."

"Rantings?" Hutch suggested, lifting his brow to glance at his partner, only to return his attention to the boxes when the brunet saluted him with his middle finger. "You sound like my ex-wife, buddy." The blond snorted softly, his large hand reaching into the third box.

Starsky sighed, not finding anything humorous about the comparison to Vanessa. "Go ahead, kick a guy while he's down, why don'chya? What are you lookin' for anyway, huh?

"Here it is," Hutch smiled, lifting a frying pan from bottom of the last box. "Ready for dinner, pal? I'll cook, while you clean."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Starsky closed his eyes and sprawled out on the dilapidated couch fronting the fireside, rubbing his stomach contentedly. It had taken almost the whole afternoon to clean and make the cabin habitable once more and while Starsky tackled the bedroom, Hutch began to fix their early dinner. After working so hard, both men were ravenous and the simple fare that the blond prepared was relished and enjoyed.

The brunet grinned as his partner handed him another bottle of beer and he propped himself up on his elbow to take a long swig. Sighing with pleasure, Starsky said, "Ya gonna play with that thing, or just rub her all night long?" Both men snickered at Starsky's question, knowing it could be construed into a lewd remark. The dark haired cop winked, blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he waited. "Well?"

Hutch shyly smiled and then gently strummed the strings of his guitar, shifting his weight to balance one heel on the crossbar of the old, wooden stool that he sat upon. From where he perched, Hutch could see the tired lines and dark circles that bruised the tender flesh under the familiar blue of his partner's eyes and he wished that things between them could revert back to how it was before they found the little boy in the dreary, dark basement.

Working side by side all day long with Starsky felt good; like old times, like how it used to be before the whole Fitzgerald nightmare began. After being suspended, Hutch had watched his partner spiral down, sucked into the mire of court proceedings and appearances as he took the stand several times to testify to the murder of the young boy; while simultaneously dodging the hounding media begging for any morsel of news regarding the case.

It was a miracle in itself that the charges against Starsky hadn't leaked out to the press; that it had stayed clear of adding to the horrible melee of the obnoxious media. Had the reporters found out about the alleged charges of police brutality filed against the dark haired cop, it would have just been the proverbial icing on the cake and it would have torn his partner up even more. As it was, the confrontation with Internal Affairs in Dobey's office had shoved Starsky into a dark place and though Hutch had volunteered to turn in his badge and gun to show support for his partner's suspension, Starsky had adamantly insisted that Hutch do no such thing leading to their first argument, which Starsky eventually won.

That was the first of many disagreements to follow. Hutch frowned, remembering how they had stood united as partners when everything started, lending support to each other like always, but as days turned to weeks, the tall flaxen haired detective could feel his partner pulling away, erecting a wall of brooding silence that distanced himself from the comfort of their relationship. Though Hutch never voiced it, the rift between them hurt the sensitive blond immensely and Hutch secretly hoped that this week at the cabin, in the quiet stillness of the wooded forest, they could somehow mend the chasm that now separated them.

There had been so many times that Hutch had tried to talk to the stubborn brunet, to get him to communicate and share what was going on in that head of his only to be put off, or silently dismissed, or angrily pushed away by his uncooperative partner. If Hutch had to be honest, Starsky's behavior was growing old very quickly. Though Hutch tried to be understanding, tried to give his partner the space he said he needed, the tall blond could feel his patience wearing thin. So when the opportunity arose, Hutch jumped at the chance to bring his despondent friend out here when Huggy told him about the cabin, hoping that time spent in nature would allow Starsky to heal and face whatever it was that was eating him up inside.

The quiet snort from the couch made Hutch remember that Starsky was waiting for some kind of response. "What do you wanna hear?" the handsome blond asked softly, light blue eyes sparkling as it picked up the meager light from the glowing candles that softened the sparse interior of the cabin. The candlelight and the flickering flames from the fireplace warmed the room and Hutch hoped that perhaps tonight they would be able to talk about whatever it was that was keeping them apart.

Starsky glanced over at the soft-spoken blond, seeing the familiar warmth in his friend's eyes. The dark haired cop turned away and swallowed down the lump that suddenly lodged itself in his throat. Though they bantered back and forth all day long, Starsky knew Hutch could still feel the forced strain that stood between them as both men strived for normalcy.

Starsky wanted so badly to reach out and touch his partner, to have Hutch touch him. He wanted things back to normal, but even their familiar bantering was stilted. The brunet knew he was pulling away, suppressing the feelings that wanted to spew out, feelings he and tried to deal with by himself as he valiantly tried to stomp the nightmares he had to the ground. He knew Hutch could feel the distance, knew the gentle blond was hurting right along beside him as always, yet he didn't know what to do to breach the distance, to get things back to the way they were. "I don' know . . . anythin' . . ."

Hutch smiled gently and then snorted softly, his long fingers already strumming a familiar tune as his golden voice began to sing the lyrics to a song they both liked, a Jim Croce classic.

_"If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I'd like to do, i__s to save everyday till eternity passes away just to spend them with you ..."_

Starsky smiled softly and then settled back against the soft cushions of the couch, feeling the tight muscles in his back relaxing as he listened to his partner's soft, melodic voice filling the quiet of the cabin . . .

_"If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true, __I'd save everyday like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you."_

The dark haired brunet closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, a sense of peace filling his troubled heart. He knew Hutch was weaving his magic, knew the blond wanted him to rest and recuperate from the hell they'd just escaped from, knew the words were meant for him . . .

_"But there never seems to be enough time, to do the things you want to do, __Once you find them, __I've looked around enough to know, that you're the one I want to go t__hrough time with . . ."_

He could hear the sound of the waves as it washed gently to shore. The cold wet sand squished comfortably between his toes as he walked the deserted length of beach. The smell of salt lingered in the air as an ocean breeze softly caressed his dark sable locks. The sky was awash with the muted colors of pink and orange, the colors of a quiet sunset that warmed his heart as he strolled along the beach searching for his blond counterpart. If Hutch were here with him now, then everything would be perfect.

_"If I had a box just for wishes, and dreams that had never come true, t__he box would be empty except for the memory o__f how they were answered by you,"_

He could feel the shift in the wind as the sky turned to a purple twilight and he hurried along the beach, seeing something in the distance. Stooping down, the brunet reached over to grab the bottle that the surf pushed to the shore. The glass, green and cold in his hands, felt smooth and slippery like a steel blade covered with blood and it shook him.

Peering intently through the bottle Starsky could suddenly see himself, locked away on the inside of the green glass, trying desperately to break down the thick walls of his imprisonment. Looking out through the glass everything he stared at was distorted and had turned green, green like the color of moss, like the color of puke, like the color of a dying boy's eyes . . .

'_No.'_

He could feel himself being violently pulled back, dragged along by his memories though he clawed at the smooth and impenetrable sides of the glass, unable to stop himself, knowing and fighting against his inevitable destination.

'_No.'_

His throat convulsed, swallowing down the vomit that wanted to emerge, feeling its burning, acidic warmth as it slid down to the depths of his guts brought on by the coppery smell that suddenly flooded his nasal passages. He could feel the sticky warmth that covered his hand and fingers and he knew he was there, once again, in the dark of the cold basement.

He could hear it in the rough of his own voice, stammering with pain and denial.

"Noooo! H-hang on Sean, don't talk, just hang on. It's gonna be okay, help is on the way." He could see it in the boy's face, in the deep green of the boy's eyes as the light within those orbs slowly faded, turning the color of his eyes to the murky green of split pea soup, to the color of vomit. He could feel it in the way he clutched at the boy, feeling the ebb of the youngster's life leaking through his fingers. He watched in horror as the boy slowly turned his head to look at him, green eyes lifeless and accusing as his pale cold lips opened and a whisper of truth trailed up to his ears.

_"Ma-ma . . . he's afraid. He's afraid to die, just like me . . ."_

Gasping, Starsky bolted upright, dark blue eyes wild with fear and desperation, lips opened as he violently took air in, filling his lungs with that life sustaining essence as his heart continued to pound rapidly.

"Starsk?" Hutch carefully leaned the neck of his guitar against the wall and hesitantly made his way over to his partner who peered at him with owlish eyes. The large blue pupils and sleep tousled curls lent an air of vulnerability to the brunet, bringing out the protective nature in the blond.

For a minute or two, the tall blond had watched from his wooden seat as his partner slept on the worn couch, the song coming to end a while back. Hutch was glad he had sung his friend to sleep; knew that Starsky needed some rest judging by the weary dark circles that bruised the skin under the vibrant blue of the brunet's eyes. Even from where he sat, Hutch could tell that Starsky was dreaming as the dark haired detective fitfully twitched now and then, but when Starsky jolted awake, the abrupt movement startled even the flaxen haired detective who quickly jumped off the stool and came over to try and comfort his partner.

"Take it easy, buddy," Hutch whispered soothingly, sitting on the edge of the battered furniture as he gently pushed his partner to lie back again against the cushioned arm of the couch. "Bad dream, huh?"

Breathing heavily, Starsky nodded and then closed his eyes; long dark lashes hiding whatever he was feeling from his partner's perceptive view. "'M okay," Starsky finally mumbled. "Just overly tired I guess. Never thought I'd be workin' so hard on my forced vacation," the weary brunet gestured weakly at the now spotless cabin."

The blond smiled, knowing his partner was trying to make light of the nightmare that had obviously affected him so deeply. "You wanna talk about it?" Hutch suggested softly. "Sometimes it helps . . . I know it helps me."

"Nah, I don' even 'member it anymore." Starsky replied, eyes still closed, the quiet tone of his voice growing defensive and distant. The brunet knew his partner better than anyone else and he knew how Hutch could get when he suspected something. Like a hungry dog after a buried bone, the tenacious blond would keep at it, digging away until he got what he wanted.

Hutch snorted, hearing the warning edge in his partner's voice. The tall blond dragged his hand through the locks of his fine golden hair, smiling sheepishly at his friend who opened one eye to glare suspiciously at him. Hutch knew he would let it go this time around. He had Starsky to himself for the whole week and he knew there would be more time to pursue this issue. He could feel the weariness in the brunet and reached out to pat his friend on his knee. "Well, you look beat, buddy. Why don't you take a shower and then hit the sack. We'll call it an early night since the fish get up at the crack of dawn."

"What?" Starsky grouched, his lower lip suddenly sticking out in a petulant pout. "You mean we can't sleep in?"

"Not if you want to eat dinner tomorrow, Gordo." Hutch grinned, light blue eyes softening with the fondness he felt for his dark haired friend who grumbled under his breath and sat up, planting his feet on the wooden floor, elbows on denim covered knees, hands hanging loosely between them.

"You do know there's only one bed in this one bedroom cabin, right?" Starsky asked, turning his head slightly to eye his partner who sat comfortably beside him.

"No, I didn't know that, but you can take it, Starsk," Hutch offered. "I'll sleep here on the couch, it's closer to the fireplace."

"What? And ruin your back?" Starsky said, shaking his head. "I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

"How big is the bed?" Hutch asked, one brow lifting as he turned to look in the direction of the bedroom.

"It's a queen, but . . ."

"Then we can share, pal," Hutch said with a grin. "Just stay on your side and don't hog the blankets and we'll be fine."

Starsky snorted, then looked to his folded hands. He knew Hutch would suggest they share the bed, but Starsky knew his nightmares were getting worse and sleeping was anything but restful for the brunet. He'd kept his dreams a secret from his partner for a reason. There was no way in hell he would share a bed and chance the blond witnessing one of his dreaded nightmares. "I'll just stay here on the couch Hutch. You know how you snore and stuff. 'Sides, I can't sleep as it is with all the crickets chirping outside and the bedroom window is right next to the bed. I might keep you up all night with my tossin' and turnin'."

Hutch frowned, knowing his partner was pushing him away again and damn if he was going to let him. Rising to his feet, Hutch made a puppy dog face, light blue eyes softening with disappointment, lips turned down into a sad frown as the fair detective held his hand out to the brunet. "C'mon, Starsk. I promise I won't bite. You trust me don't you?"

Starsky glared at the now smiling blond and then sighed with resignation, "You don't play fair, Hutchinson."

Hutch laughed and pulled his tired partner to his feet. "You take a shower while I change the sheets. The way you look, buddy, you'll be asleep long before I finish brushing my teeth."

To be continued . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun. 

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

_You know the other night when I was supposed to be editing and posting this chapter? (cough, cough) Well, I was on You Tube watching some clips of this old TV Western called, "Lancer." As I watched the clips last night, I just was amazed at how much the main characters reminded me of Starsky and Hutch- cowboy style! (big grin). The story is about two brothers (from different mothers) who prior to meeting, had no idea of each other's existence, but they reunite to aid their father. After getting off to a rough start, the boys become the best of friends as well as family. Okay, I don't know why I'm even sharing this with you – must be because I'm bleary-eyed and wasted and I'm having diarrhea of the mouth (fingers lol), or maybe its just an excuse, but I wanted you to know that I was sort of doing something S & H related . . . but anyway, sorry, and just go check it out yourself if you're interested._

_And now, without further ado, I bring you chapter four . . ._

Love & light, Shawne

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

Hutch frowned, knowing his partner was pushing him away again and damn if he was going to let him. Rising to his feet, Hutch made a puppy dog face, light blue eyes softening with disappointment, lips turned down into a sad frown as the fair detective held his hand out to the brunet. "C'mon, Starsk. I promise I won't bite. You trust me don't you?"

Starsky glared at the now smiling blond and then sighed with resignation, "You don't play fair, Hutchinson."

Hutch laughed and pulled his tired partner to his feet. "You take a shower while I change the sheets. The way you look, buddy, you'll be asleep long before I finish brushing my teeth."

**~Chapter Four~**

The musty smell of antiquated junk and stale air assailed Starsky's nostrils as he descended to the dark basement below. His body grew rigid as the rickety step he stood upon protested loudly against his unfamiliar weight. The dark haired detective glanced over his shoulder to look over at his partner, but Hutch was gone.

Feeling his heart beating an erratic rhythm against the hollow of his chest, Starsky strained to see in the darkness of the basement, making nothing out except the vague gray shapes of stacked boxes that lined the nearest wall.

A disembodied voice called out from the darkness and the brunet instantly stopped; carefully listening to the soft, but frantic whispering that remained unintelligible to straining ears. A quiet rustling could be heard, a chain being yanked, and then a sickly yellow light that dimly lit the interior of the basement made Starsky squint once more. The swaying bulb hanging overhead created shadows that drifted to and fro and the dark haired cop widened his eyes as he caught sight of the broad back of the fat balding man who stood turned to the far side of the room. Though his hefty back blocked the way, Starsky could see Frank's meaty hands struggling to hold onto his victim in front of him.

"Hey . . ." Starsky snapped angrily, trying to see over the older man's shoulder to the victim he held, planting his feet firmly apart as he cocked the trigger of his Baretta. The soft 'click' sounded ominous in the quiet darkness. "Turn around slowly with your hands on your head. NOW!"

The angry shout from the cop made the pedophile jump. Frank turned slowly dragging his victim along with him. Familiar golden hair caught the attention of the rigid brunet and Starsky gasped as he saw his partner clutched in the arms of the perpetrator, barely conscious as the knife grazed the tender the flesh of Hutch's neck.

"See something you like, pig?" the pedophile sneered. The swaying light made the man's eyes glitter in the darkness and the brunet was reminded of a feral beast about to rip into his prey.

Starsky swallowed, wanting to rush to the aid of his partner, but refraining from any sudden movements. "Listen to me . . . just . . . just take it easy and let my partner go. I'll help you get through this. You'll be saving the life of a cop if you let him go. That's a big thing . . . they'll go easy on you, Frank, I promise."

"You promise? Ha! Ya gonna take care of your partner just like you took care of that kid?" the fat man grinned evilly; beads of perspiration ran down the sides of his pudgy face. "You gonna try to come closer? Be the big hero? 'Cause your kind of help didn't exactly save the boy, did it?" The bald man roughly jerked the blond cop against his chest, causing Hutch to gasp and open his eyes.

Green.

Not the familiar light blue of the sky.

Just green, like the color of moss, like the color of puke, like the color of a dying boy's eyes . . .

"Hutch!" Starsky called out, stormy blue eyes darting from his partner's face to the blood that spewed out beneath the vicious downward slash of the blade.

"_Noooooooo!"_

"NO!" Starsky gasped, jolting awake in the darkness of the silent bedroom, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. Trying to control the trembling in his hands, Starsky clutched them together as he got his bearings, the incessant chirping of crickets outside the cabin began to lull away the fear that coursed through the brunet when he first jerked awake. Breathing heavily, Starsky glanced over at his partner who continued to sleep and for that, the dark haired cop was grateful. Closing his eyes with a ragged sigh, Starsky could still see snatches of the dark images that haunted his dream; splashes of red that colored the back of his eyelids with the blood spewed from the Hutch's gaping throat.

Starsky snapped his eyes opened and shuddered, the vivid dream still very much with him. Looking over once more to reassure himself that Hutch was alive and well, the brunet listened silently to the quiet snores coming from his best friend. Using the back of his wrist to swipe at the perspiration that beaded his forehead, Starsky eased his legs over the side of the bed, standing to stare at his partner once more in the dark of the night.

The corners of Hutch's lips twitched and a shadow of a smile appeared as the blond continued to sleep, evidence of a pleasant dream running through his head; totally unaware of the curly haired detective who stood above him, gratefully watching the way his partner's chest rose and fell with the deep breathing that slumber brings on.

Starsky swallowed. _'God, if anything ever happened to you, Hutch . . . if I ever lost you to the streets . . .'_ The dark haired detective quaked at the devastating thought of losing his best friend, long lashes lowering to hide the pain that flashed in the depths of his dark blue eyes. Hutch was his anchor, his lifeline, the better half to his soul. The brunet knew he might as well die himself if he ever lost Hutch to this job; after all, how could he live with only half a heart? Starsky shivered in the chill of the room, knowing that if Hutch ever bit the bullet it would ultimately be his fault. Hutch depended on him to watch his back. If Hutch ever died on his watch, Starsky knew he would never be able to forgive himself.

Starsky could still feel the slight tremors that raced through his body. The nightmare had shaken him to the core as it often did. As days turned into weeks since Frank's arrest, the disturbing nightmares of Sean had slowly been replaced with his image morphing into Hutch as the victim in the basement. Starsky knew it was his hidden fear of losing his partner that had somehow warped the reality of the dream, but seeing Hutch die like that, night after night, left the exhausted brunet on the edge of a nervous breakdown, his mood growing ever darker in the waking hours that he spent with his blond counterpart.

Starsky softly sighed, dragging one hand through his tousled curls; trying to shake the nagging fear that lingered in the darkness; like a ghost that haunted his every move, like the sad green gaze that plagued his sleep. _God he was so tired!_ If only he could rest for a few hours, then maybe he could get through the fishing expedition Hutch had planned for him in the morning. Making up his mind, Starsky padded silently to the dilapidated dresser where his duffle bag sat. The brunet quietly zipped open the bag, glancing once more at the blond to make sure that Hutch was still sleeping soundly.

Reassured, Starsky dug down beneath the pile of clothes to the bottom of the bag, his fingers wrapping around the cylindrical plastic container that held the small white pills he'd been using for the past two weeks. The weary brunet trudged back to his side of the bed and sat at the edge of the worn mattress. Removing the cap from the bottle, Starsky shook out two sleeping tablets and downed both with the glass of water Hutch left for him on the bedside table. Though he usually stayed away from taking any over the counter drugs, Starsky was growing used to the comfort and rest these pills provided, especially since he'd hadn't been able to sleep through the night since the Fitzgerald's case.

Shivering with the chill in the room, the dark haired detective placed the small container on the bedside table and crawled back under the covers, feeling the warmth emanating from his partner's body. For a brief moment, Starsky was tempted to wake Hutch up, needing to hear the familiar softness of his friend's voice, wanting to feel the comfort of his touch.

Shaking his head, Starsky silently chided himself for being such a sappy wimp. If anyone could have read his soapy thoughts right then, the brunet would never be able to live it down. Fuck! He needed to pull himself together and stop wallowing in whatever it was that was eating away at him. Kicking himself in the proverbial ass, Starsky hunkered down for the short wait till the pills kicked in.

Even now as he lay in the dark, Starsky could "see" the green of Sean's eyes as they grew dull and lifeless; he could "hear" the boy's pained and wistful voice as he called out for his mother. Starsky shuddered silently and closed his eyes. He knew the boy's death had affected him greatly. He didn't need anyone to tell him that he was messed up, not Hutch, or Dobey, and definitely not some cold and clinical shrink he didn't know.

Starsky forced himself to relax, consciously easing the tightness he felt in his limbs and abdomen as he snuggled deeper into the quilt. Hell! He just needed to get it together. He was strong enough to pull himself out of the hole he had crawled into. If he could get over the nightmares of Marcus and the abduction he suffered at the hands of those insane cultists, then he could definitely get over this too!

Starsky sighed softly in the dark of the room; the never-ending drone of crickets became an almost soothing white noise in the background of his overwhelming thoughts. Starsky knew that if he were honest with himself, maybe there was a small part of him that didn't want to go back to force, especially if it meant that he might lose Hutch. He loved being a cop, it was in his blood, and he never kidded himself at the risks involved with his job, but losing Hutch was a price he just wasn't willing to pay anymore. And to add insult to injury, being forced to see a shrink not only grated on his nerves and his pride, but it pissed him off royally! Fuck Simonetti and Dreyden's stipulation. If he was being forced to see a shrink, then maybe they could just take his job and shove it!

Feeling a little better with his self-talk, the brunet blinked owlishly in the darkness and then pulled the blanket over his shoulder. Turning to face his back against Hutch's, Starsky smiled as he wiggled closer to the heat of his partner, snuggling his bottom against the blond's until both posteriors connected. Feeling suddenly safe, Starsky sighed and closed his eyes giving in to the feeling of the familiar drowsiness that the pill brought on. Maybe now, he could finally get some much-needed sleep. Pushing his unresolved thoughts to the back of his mind, Starsky burrowed his cheek into the softness of the pillow and forced himself to concentrate on pleasant thoughts and happier times spent with friends and loved ones in the hopes that it would somehow shield him and keep his nightmares at bay.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Rise and shine, meathead! The fish are waiting! If you hurry up, we can watch the sun come up!"

Hutch grinned as he heard the muffled protest that came from his partner who stuck his dark curly head under his pillow. The happy blond lit the bedside lantern to illuminate the tiny bedroom. It was still dark outside, but it wouldn't be long before the sky lightened with the coming of a new day.

"C'mon, Starsk . . . the fish aren't gonna fry themselves. Let's get a move on it, pal!" The tall blond stooped over and rudely slapped the brunet's bottom, laughing as his partner grumbled even more, snuggling even deeper into the quilt to avoid his irritating friend. Snorting loudly, Hutch turned to glance at the little traveling clock on Starsky's beside table to check the time.

Light blue eyes widened as Hutch spotted the small container of pills. Frowning, the tall blond reached for the cylinder and eyed the label, turning it around to read the directions on the back. The flaxen haired detective shifted his eyes from the pills to the still sleeping brunet. "What the hell, buddy?" Hutch murmured softly.

Sitting at the edge of the mattress next to his partner and lifting the pillow, Hutch gently shook his friend awake, watching as the long dark lashes lifted to reveal dazed and unfocused pupils that slowly rolled to the back of his head as Starsky drifted off to sleep once more. Shaking his own head and sighing quietly, the blond rose to his feet, carefully replacing the pillow beneath the dark curls and tucking the corners of the quilt around his sleeping friend.

For a second, the tall blond could feel himself growing angry and frustrated, knowing his brooding partner hadn't told him about the pills he'd been taking just to sleep at night. Yet, Hutch knew Starsky was exhausted, both mentally, as well as physically. He could read it in the tired lines on his friend's face and the haunted look in the familiar blue of his eyes. Hutch had also witnessed the nightmare Starsky had the other day as the weary brunet rested on the couch and the irritation he felt in his head soon dissipated as the compassion in his heart took over.

"Awww, Gordo. . ." Hutch whispered, leaning over to gently stroke a curl back from his friend's brow. "Why didn't you tell me, huh? You don't need to hide this from me, buddy." The tall blond smiled as an errant curl clung to his baby finger. Swallowing hard, Hutch gently drew his hand away, and pulled the blankets over the brunet's shoulder as Starsky turned and snuggled into its warmth. Shaking his head and sighing softly, the handsome blond whispered, "Fishing can wait another day, but you and me need to talk real soon, Starsk . . . real soon!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Hey . . . mornin', Blondie."

Hutch looked up from the rod and reel that he held on his lap, the fishing line held between his thumb and forefinger lowered as the disheveled brunet shuffled into the living room, rubbing the sleep from one eye with the heel of his hand. "Hey, pal! Nice underwear you got going there," the blond smirked, shifting his eyes back to the fishing gear he was working on.

Starsky snorted and stretched, scratching his abdomen through the coarse weave of the red long johns he wore to bed. The damn thing made him itchy! "Gets cold up here! I was shiverin' last night even with them on. So, when we headin' out?"

Hutch turned to look up at his friend, brows drawing together in a frown. "Heading out? To where?"

"To fish, dummy!" Starsky replied, flopping down on the battered couch he was growing very fond of. "What happened to all that talk about the fish gettin' up at the crack of dawn and . . . what?" The ranting brunet frowned at the incredulous look that overcame his partner's features. "What?"

Shaking his head, Hutch gently lowered the rod and reel to the wooden floor of the cabin. "Starsk," the blond began, his golden voice quiet and tolerant, "It's not morning anymore. It's already late afternoon. You slept the day away, buddy."

"What?" Starsky's frown grew deeper and he trudged to the nearest window to peer outside. Turning to look at his partner the brunet asked, "How come you let me sleep so long? What are we gonna eat for dinner?"

Hutch smiled. Food would be his partner's first concern. "Oh, I saw a bar and grill about five miles down the mountain road near the lake we were gonna fish at. Thought maybe we could drive there for dinner and fish tomorrow morning instead. We still have a few more days before we have to head back to the city, there's no rush to do anything. Besides, I thought you could use the sleep, Starsk."

"Huh!" the brunet huffed, glancing down at his bare feet. _God, he was blowing it! This was supposed to be a relaxing getaway for Hutch and he was fucking it up, but he was just so tired! _Even now, the dark haired brunet had to fight the urge to crawl back into the welcoming warmth of the bed he'd just left, letting the lethargic waves wash over him, lulling him back to the sleep his body so desperately needed. Feeling guilty, Starsky lifted his lashes, and looked over at the blond who continued to smile warmly. "'M sorry, Hutch," Starsky mumbled, "Didn't mean to ruin our fishin' date. You should'a just woke me up."

"No big deal, Gordo," the blond said with a dismissing wave of his hand. It's been a rough few weeks and I knew you needed to catch up on your beauty sleep, pal. You look like shit, buddy!"

Starsky snorted and then dropped his eyes once more. "That bad, huh?"

Hutch's face softened as his partner lifted his gaze to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were having nightmares, Starsk?

The brunet heaved a sigh. "'Cause it ain't a big deal. Hey, you made coffee this mornin'?"

Hutch frowned, knowing his stubborn partner was trying to change the subject, but this had gone on long enough and Hutch wasn't willing anymore to let his partner steer the conversation. "Nope, no coffee. And yes, it is a big deal, Starsky, if you feel like you have to take these just to sleep through the night." The blond fished out the small container of pills from his pocket and shook them.

Dark blue eyes slowly lifted from the small, incriminating bottle sitting innocently on the large palm of Hutch's hand. Swallowing hard, Starsky turned away from the questions he saw in his partner's light blue eyes. Remembering how he left the bottle on the little table next to the clock, Starsky wanted to kick himself in the head. What the hell was he thinking? How could he have forgotten that "Mother Hen" Hutchinson was sharing the same bed with him?

"Well?"

The brunet turned to look at the tall blond, seeing the frustration and concern plastered over Hutch's features. "Well, what? So I took some of those. What's the big deal? They're just over the counter sleepin' pills."

"I can see that, Starsk. How long?"

"How long what?"

Hutch sighed and tiredly rubbed a hand over his face, knowing he was in for a long haul. With as much patience he could muster, the blond said, "How long have you been taking the pills?"

"I don' know," the brunet replied gruffly. "A coupl'a weeks maybe?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Sapphire blue turned to smoky cobalt as the curly haired cop snapped, "'Cause you ain't my ma, Hutch! What? You think you own me? You wanna know every detail of my life? You gonna start loggin' down when I take a shit, too?" The dark haired detective turned abruptly, wanting to make his escape into the bedroom he'd just exited, but the sudden firm grasp prevented him from leaving.

"Uh-uh, buddy. We're talking about this right here and now . . . no more running." Hutch said firmly as the brunet glanced down at the large hand encircling his bicep. Hutch's blue eyes widened in surprise when Starsky shoved him away, breaking the hold he had on his partner's arm.

"Back off, Hutch," Starsky snarled, feeling suddenly threatened and contained, the walls of the tiny cabin seemed to be narrowing and shrinking, trapping the claustrophobic brunet within. "Jus' give me some space, okay?"

"I have been giving you space and it isn't helping." Hutch snapped back, his ire growing as his patience waned. "I know things aren't right between us, that you're hurting inside, and I want to help, Starsk!"

"Then help by getting outta my face." Starsky growled, his voice rough and intimidating, cobalt daggers shooting up at the tall handsome blond who rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"That isn't going to work with me, Starsky. We've been partners for far too long. You can't bully me away from caring about you, pal." Hutch replied calmly, watching the play of emotions that ghosted across the brunet's expressive face before Starsky turned away.

The dark haired cop began to pace, back and forth from the window to the fireplace, blue eyes darting to and fro but never resting on one particular object or making contact with the eyes of his partner who silently watched his friend's agitation from across the room.

The tall blond sighed, wanting to breach the sudden chill that descended upon them. He knew his partner wanted him to drop the subject, but he was so tired of pretending that things were fine when they obviously were not. Hutch swallowed, knowing how obstinate and unyielding his moody partner could be, but he bravely made his way over to his friend who now stood by the window silently looking out at the forest of pines.

Clearing his throat, the soft-hearted blond hesitantly reached out to touch his dark haired counterpart, laying his hand gently on Starsky's shoulder, feeling his partner tense abruptly as he drew the brunet's attention away from the window. Cobalt blue met and locked on the soft azure of the sky, until Starsky finally bowed his head, breaking the connection between the two silent men.

Hutch gave a little reassuring squeeze before he gently said, "I know things have been really rough and I get that you're upset by everything that's happened, buddy. I just . . . I just want to help that's all. I tears me up inside to see this eating away at you . . . eating away at us." Though the brunet said nothing, Hutch could tell that Starsky was listening intently to every word he said and that encouraged the blond to continue.

"I don't know, Starsk. I just feel you pulling away from me. I didn't know you were having nightmares and I didn't know you were taking pills to sleep at night. Are you . . . are you angry at me for something I might have done? Because . . . because if I upset you in any way, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, or maybe it's something I didn't do . . . I just need you to talk to me . . . I jus . . ."

"Ya didn't do nuthin', Hutch," Starsky sighed, raising long dark lashes to reveal twin sapphires bright with pain. "Don't go blamin' yourself. It's not about you, okay? It's me. I just . . . I'm fucked, okay? And I need you to give me some time to sort everthin' out 's all."

Hutch slowly let out the breath he was unaware of holding, hope filling his heart at Starsky's words. Perhaps his partner was finally going to start lowering his shields and allow the comfort the blond so desperately wanted to give. "I don't know, Starsk. Maybe you've just had too much time to think and dwell on everything, you know? Sometimes it's more healing to take action. Maybe it's time we get back to work."

At the sudden frown that marred the brunet's features, Hutch quickly continued, "I know that it pisses you off that you need to seek consultation from a psychologist before you can return to the streets, that Simonetti and Dreyden are getting away with forcing that stipulation down your throat, but it's not a big deal, right? I mean, both of us have done this before, we're used to playing "the game". It'll just be the same old song and dance that you've done time and again and soon you'll be out of that doc's office and th. . ."

"I ain't seeing a shrink, Hutch." Starsky said adamantly, blue eyes growing hard with determination as he stared at his gaping partner.

"But that's . . . that's the only way you can get back to work, Starsk. I mean, if you don't see a . . ."

Starsky interjected, his voice cold and final, "Then maybe it's time I find another job, Hutch, 'cause like I said before, I ain't seein' no shrink."

To be continued . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun. 

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

_Hey guys, once again, I am sorry. It has been a killer week for me with no down time whatsoever, but Brook prompted me to post this before I have to go to the hospital tomorrow. Will be having a hysterectomy done in the morning, so I don't know when I will be up and about to post chapter six, but it's done already and it will be posted as soon as possible. I am sure that Brook will not let me forget that either! LOL. Take care until next we meet._

_And now, without further ado, I bring you chapter five . . ._

Love & light, Shawne

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

"I ain't seeing a shrink, Hutch." Starsky said adamantly, blue eyes growing hard with determination as he stared at his gaping partner.

"But that's . . . that's the only way you can get back to work, Starsk. I mean, if you don't see a . . ."

Starsky interjected, his voice cold and final, "Then maybe it's time I find another job, Hutch, 'cause like I said before, I ain't seein' no shrink."

**~Chapter Five~**

"So I guess I should be honored that you had a change of heart and finally found your way here? I mean, you strike me as the kind of man who sticks to his decisions once his mind is made up, Dave."

(Silence)

"So how long were you taking those pills and can you give the name of the drug please?"

"Not long. And I don't remember the name. Hutch dumped 'em when we got back to Bay City. Go ask him."

"I see. How did you feel about that?"

(A non-committal shrug)

"You and Detective Hutchinson seem to be awfully close."

"We're partners."

"Yes, I know. But many partners don't have the kind of friendship that you two seem to have."

"He's like my brother."

"That's quite obvious. The relationship you share seems t . . ."

"Look can we get on with this?"

"Certainly."

(Silence)

"Well?"

"Well what, Dave?"

"Ain't ya gonna waste my time and ask me more stupid questions?"

(A quiet chuckle)

"So did you and Detective Hutchinson ever get to do some fishing?"

"Is the Pope Catholic? This is Hutch we're talkin' about. You know, country boy from Minnesota? Of **course** we went fishin'!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.

"Look at that lake, Starsk! So clean and pristine! I bet there must be hundreds of fish under that calm surface just itchin' to be fried up for your dinner, pal!" The blond grinned and turned eagerly to look towards his partner who was wrapped up in a blanket, slouched against the passenger door of the LTD, smoky blue eyes glittering from beneath the red baseball cap that covered his curly, dark head. "What's the matter, Gordo?"

"What's the m-matter?" The shivering brunet unfurled himself and leaned towards his smiling partner, the quilt still wrapped around his shoulders and clutched together by his fists. "D-do you even know what time it is, Hutch? I mean . . . the s-sun ain't even up yet, for Christ sakes! How the h-hell can you be so chipper when it's fuckin' freezin' like this? M-maybe the damn lake is f-frozen over and we're here f-for nuthin'! Ever thought about that?"

Hutch snorted softly and then burst into laughter, ignoring the sour glare he received from his partner. "It's weeks till winter, pal, and right now, it's the best time to fish, Starsk! The sun'll be up in a few minutes so stop with your bitching. Did I ever tell you, you sound like Vanessa?" The blond cracked up as the brunet silently flipped him the bird. "C'mon babe, it'll be fun. I promise." Light blue eyes softened with the affection he felt for his grouchy dark haired partner.

"Promises, promises . . ." Starsky grumbled under his breath, kicking open the door as he stumbled out from the warmth of the car, still clutching the blanket around himself as he eyed the beautiful surroundings of the mountain lake. In the background, he could hear Hutch rummaging through the trunk as he collected his fishing gear, but Starsky tuned the noise out all together as he stared out at the shimmering water, his warm breath turning to a wisp of smoke in the cold morning air.

The sun was already painting the sky with touches of gold and yellow, illuminating the tips of the pine trees with an almost silver color that took one's breath away. The brunet's sapphire gaze drank in the beauty and stillness of the early morning hour and for a brief moment, Starsky could feel tranquility washing over him, filling his heart with a quiet strength and the balance he'd lost since finding Sean in that basement over a month ago. The dark haired detective closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the clean mountain air, filling his lungs with everything that was right and good and pure. Being up here in the mountains was so different from being in the heart of the busy city with its hustle and bustle, with its stink and pollution and its violent crimes.

"Hey, you okay, buddy?"

Starsky smiled, feeling the sudden warmth of his partner's strong arm across his shoulder. Lifting long lashes, the brunet turned to smile softly at the tall blond who stood beside him. "Yeah, for the first time in a long time, everythin' seems fine," the dark haired cop replied, his voice but a whisper in the serenity of the woods.

There was this look that overcame his partner's features that Hutch had no words for, only a deep sense of gratitude that swelled within him. The sensitive blond could hear his own heartbeat in the quiet hush that enfolded both he and Starsky; and a smile just as gentle as his partner's slowly graced his lips. "You seem . . . I don't know." Hutch shook his head and continued, "I mean . . . what were you thinking just now, Gordo, as you looked out over the lake?"

"I dunno." Starsky said whisper soft, "Just that . . . just that it's beautiful here. Growing up in New York City, you don't see stuff like this too often. When me and Nicky were kids, after pop died and all, my ma would often tell us of how she thought heaven would look like, how peaceful it would be up there. She would say that in heaven, there would be no hate or violence, that only love and beauty and goodness would be there; that everthin' would be golden and clean like it is here." The dark haired cop blushed, lowering his head as he lifted a hand to self-consciously rub at the nape of his neck, smiling as he felt Hutch remove his arm. Shrugging self-consciously, Starsky said, "Guess she wanted us to know that our pop was stayin' someplace good and safe ya know?"

Hutch swallowed, nodding as he listened intently, not wanting to move or say anything that would stop the flow of his friend's words. It wasn't too often that the brunet would choose to open up this way and divulge feelings he usually kept so close to his heart; and it wasn't often that Starsky talked about his boyhood days, growing up on the streets of New York. The blond knew his partner's father had been brutally gunned down when Starsky was just a kid and his mother had eventually packed up her eldest son and shipped him off to live with his relatives in California, but for the most part, Starsky never shared the details. He could tell the brunet was feeling embarrassed with the soapiness of the moment; and yet, it warmed Hutch's heart to know that the Starsky would confide in him with such personal memories, especially after the strained silence of last night.

They had eaten at the dingy bar and grill, choosing a side table away from the noise of the jukebox and the smoke filled area of the pool table. Hutch had every intention of making his partner see how important it was for him to give in and see the shrink. He knew how much Starksy loved his job, and he couldn't see his friend throwing away his career just because he was too prideful to give in to the ridiculous stipulation from Internal Affairs. But no matter how much he tried to broach the subject, the dark haired cop remained stubbornly quiet, refusing to engage in any conversation throughout his entire meal or on the short drive home to the cabin afterwards. Though they slept in the same bed like they did the night before, there now was an invisible wall of ice and stone that divided both men and Hutch wondered if going fishing the next morning was such a great idea after all.

Yet, here they were. It had surprised the blond that a shivering Starsky would still come with him in the wee morning hours, valiantly climbing out of the warm bed to shuck on his faded jeans and his red sweater pullover, dragging the quilt behind him while he jammed the cap on his tousled locks and trudged sleepily to the car. The brunet promptly fell asleep and Hutch let him, now and then glancing over at the huddled form that slouched against the door as far from his partner as he could get. There were several times that Hutch had been sorely tempted to drag his obstinate partner over to his side to pillow the dark curls against the warmth of his thigh, but the blond thought better of it and let his weary friend keep his distance.

Looking at Starsky now, standing silently beside him, wrapped in the quilt he brought from the cabin as puffs of smoke emanated silently from his lips, Hutch felt a gladness he hadn't felt for a long time, a closeness, a connection that he had missed immensely.

"Your mom is a wonderful lady, buddy. I often wish my mother had been like yours." Hutch whispered back, seeing the sadness that filled the dark blue of his partner's eyes.

"I know, Blintz. I lucked out with my ma, but at least we both had more time to spend with our mothers than Sean did," Starsky said softly. Taking a deep breath in, the brunet turned his gaze to the lake. The water looked like glass from where they stood.

Starsky cleared his throat; his voice, though still soft, grew rough with emotion. "I wanna think that that kid is up there, ya know? I mean, in that heaven my ma described. That would be a great place if it was like that - no hate, no violence, just good things like love and peace and beauty." Starsky lowered his eyes to his fist clenching the ends of the blanket. "The kid died so brutally, Hutch. His last memories were of pain and suffering and he never got to say goodbye to his ma. Thinking of that, it just . . . it just kills me inside."

Hutch could feel his eyes swim with hot tears at the soft words from his vulnerable partner. The tall blond swallowed and said, "I believe Sean's in some place really good now, buddy. And even if he didn't get to say goodbye to his mother, I know Sean knew his mom loved him as Helen knew her son loved her."

Starsky nodded, never lifting his eyes to acknowledge his partner's words. "I always think back to that night in the basement, Hutch. I think it was my f . . . I keep thinkin' I should'a done somethin' different, ya know? Somethin' that could'a saved the kid's life."

"Starsk . . ."

The brunet dragged his eyes to his partner's compassionate face. Hutch fought the lump that rose in his own throat as he spied the familiar blue orbs; now dull with the pain and remorse that filled Starsky's heart. "He kept lookin' at me, Hutch. I know he was hopin' I would do something . . . anything . . . to save him . . . and I . . . I let him down."

"Starsk . . . Starsky, don't do this, man." Hutch whispered, shaking his head as his dark haired partner continued, his voice droning on without pausing to listen to his blond counterpart's entreaties.

" . . . I fuckin' blew it, Hutch. I didn't listen to the scum's warning, I moved when I wasn't supposed to. I made that creep butcher that kid . . ."

"No, Starsk!"

"No, you don't get it, Hutch. The kid died because of me. He was bleedin' out on account of my stupidity. I shouldn't have moved, but he was lookin' at me, Hutch, and all I could think of was . . ."

Hutch grabbed his partner's shoulders, turning the brunet to stare into his tear filled eyes. "Listen to me! It wasn't your fault, Starsky! We're cops, trained to serve and protect! So you moved . . . you're trained to do so. You're a cop! You and I, we've seen so much crap out there on the streets. This is no different, Gordo!"

"He was a kid, Hutch . . . just a kid!" Hutch could see the dark blue irises searching his face, seeking the absolution that Starsky so desperately needed and the blond prayed that he could somehow get through to his partner and somehow lift the burden of guilt and despair that was weighing his friend down.

"Starsky, hear me," Hutch said, light blue orbs locking with the stormy blue of his partner's desperate gaze. The blond softened his voice, reaching out to his friend with honey-laced tones. "Yes, Sean was just a child, and it was horrible what happened to him, how he was brutalized and killed, but it was **not** your fault. You didn't kidnap Sean from the park and rape and brutalize him for three days. You didn't drag Sean down to the basement and slice him open. Frank did! You tried to save the boy. We both did! If you're gonna blame yourself, then I'm as much to blame as you, buddy."

"You didn't move, Hutch. In fact, you held me back. You didn't react like I did. You kept it together, kept me together."

"Yeah, like you've done for me so many times in the past. Look, we see it all the time on the streets, Starsk . . . random violence. Bad things happen to good people and . . . and in a blink of an eye, everything can change for the better or for the worse. In Sean's case, it was for the worst, but that doesn't mean it's your fault! Do you understand me, Starsky?"

For a long moment the dark haired cop searched the truth that shone out from the blond's eyes, and then slowly nodded, swallowing hard before Hutch pulled the trembling brunet into his strong embrace, rubbing the curly haired detective's back all the while as Starsky pulled himself together.

Hutch closed his eyes as he held his long time friend, pale lashes hiding the hurt he felt for his softhearted partner. He knew the boy's death had shaken the hot-tempered brunet, but never once did he think that Starsky had shouldered the blame for Sean's demise. How could Starsky have thought that? As he stroked the strong back of his dark haired counterpart, Hutch silently discerned that Starsky's nightmares were stemming from the guilt the brunet felt inside, holding himself accountable as he blamed himself for Sean's death. Who wouldn't have nightmares with a burden like that resting upon your shoulders?

The tall blond decided that he would have another talk with his partner once they returned to the cabin. Maybe now that Starsky had purged his guilt, he would be more open to going through the motions with the shrink and all would be right again. Hutch knew how much Starsky loved being a cop; it was his life, what motivated the brunet to get up in the morning. Even though it pissed them both off to be forced into compliance, Starsky would have to bend to the whims of Simonetti and Dreyden to get back on the force, and hopefully in time, when all of this was well behind them, when lives once more were saved on the streets and wrongs were righted, Starsky would realize that is sacrifice would have been well worth it.

The blond regretfully let his partner go, once he felt Starsky gently pull away. The brunet sheepishly looked down on the ground, blushing as long dark lashes hid his thoughts from his perceptive partner.

"You okay, pal?" Hutch asked, eyes softening with the fondness he felt for the embarrassed brunet, wanting to just enfold him once more into the safety of his embrace, needing to shield and protect his vulnerable and wounded partner.

Starsky nodded, not bothering to look up. "Yeah, 'm fine."

Hutch nodded and raised an eyebrow. "No more blaming yourself right? Remember, buddy, it wasn't your fa . . ."

"Yeah, wasn't my fault. I get it. Jus' . . . random acts of violence that changes people's lives in a blink of an eye, right?" The dark haired cop raised his lashes only to see the confirmation he knew he would find in Hutch's eyes.

"Yeah. Anything can happen to anybody in a blink of an eye, buddy. I mean this law applies even to the animal world." At the brunet's smirk, Hutch grinned and continued, "Take fishing for example. Once we throw out our lines, a big old hungry fish might come along and see the bait and swallow it and . . ."

"And in a blink of an eye we'd have dinner." Starsky blandly interjected, a slow grin tipping the corners of his mouth as he heard his partner snort loudly.

Hutch chuckled, "Right! You catch on fast, grasshopper!"

"Hey, I have a great master! What can I say? Now c'mon, dummy, let's catch those damn fish. I'm getting hungry already."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Starsky sat on the large rock near the shoreline; content to watch as Hutch gently waded through the freezing water. Though the blond roamed around in his rubberized boots and pants, the brunet still shivered as he thought of stepping out into the lake. He had helped his partner with the fishing gear and the bait, but when the time came to actually catch the fish, the brunet refused to jump in. "You go, great master, and show your humble student your expertise." Starsky joked, hoping his friend would allow him to stay on dry land.

"Yeah right, grasshopper. You think this master is stupid or something?" Hutch snorted. But the tall blond could see the weary lines of exhaustion that still marred the brunet's features and conceded by letting his partner think he'd been outsmarted. "Okay, I'll fish for your dinner, but you're gonna help fry them up tonight, you got that?" The flaxen haired cop grinned as his dark haired friend readily promised and made off to the lake's edge with his gear and his bait.

That was an hour ago.

The curly haired detective sighed and folded his legs beneath him, wishing for more sun to warm him up. Gray clouds had soon covered the meager rays of sunlight and Starsky knew they would have a downpour by early evening. He could already smell the rain in the chill of the wind and he wished the blond would hurry.

"Hey!" Starsky shouted out to his partner, "Any luck yet?" He smiled as Hutch waved in the distance and held up three fish. The tall blond held up an index finger and Starsky knew that his partner was hoping to catch one more. The brunet sighed and nodded, rolling his eyes as his friend patiently put more bait on the hook he held.

A twig snapping behind him made the brunet turn to look over his shoulder. Another twig snapped and a tingle of trepidation ran up the spine of the detective as Starsky climbed off the rock, picking up a large dead tree limb as he made his way into the thick green foliage behind him. He hated to go into the forest alone, after all, bears and snakes lived there, but it was boring sitting by himself on the rock and curiosity got the better of him.

At first he had missed her completely, her light brown hair and dark green jacket became a camouflage that blended in with the colors of the forest. She was crouched near some low lying shrubs and the dark haired cop startled as her voice rang out behind him.

"You thinkin' on hammerin' a big old bear with that little piece o' twig, stranger?"

Starsky could hear the amusement in the quiet tones of her voice and dark blue eyes tracked her own gaze as he peered at the large branch he held above his head. Feeling suddenly foolish, the brunet lowered one end of the wooden club to the ground and grinned. "Well, I knew you weren't a bear, lady," the brunet said cockily as he leaned his weight against the branch.

"Really?" the woman said, dismissing the strange man by looking down once more to stare at the shrub, her hands breaking off the thin green leaves that she placed in a little pouch that hung off her shoulder.

"Yup!" Starsky replied, his voice sure and confident, tipping back his red baseball cap to get a better look at the strange woman.

"And how'd you figure that?" the lady asked, never lifting her head to look at the detective.

"'Cause I didn't smell ya!" The brunet snorted, blue eyes twinkling as the woman looked up from her work. "There! I made ya look at me!"

A slow grin tipped the soft pink lips of the older woman; warm hazel eyes took in the curly haired man who stood before her. "You know, stranger, it's pretty stupid to go traipsing all alone out here in the forest. Seems to me a city boy like you would think twice before comin' out here at all."

"I ain't alone. My buddy's fishing for trout at the lake. Name's Dave by the way." Starsky smiled and stuck out his hand as the woman stood and tentatively reached for it.

"My name's Ellen," the woman replied, shaking the cop's hand. "Ellen Harris."

"Well, Ellen Harris, I think it's pretty stupid for a woman to go traipsing all alone in the forest. Don't you know there's bears and snakes out here?" Starsky grinned, dark blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

Ellen chuckled; her hazel eyes shrewdly assessed the handsome brunet, noting the tired lines on his face and the dark circles under his beautiful eyes. "Ain't stupid at all for me to go traipsing through my neck of the woods. I live here. I have a small cabin just down yonder."

"You live here?" Starsky mouth gaped open.

"Yup!" Ellen grinned, then crouched once more to collect more leaves.

"Wait a minute," the brunet continued. "You live here all alone or do you live here with your family?" For a few seconds, Starsky could see the pain that crossed over the woman's serene features before her face masked it and a smile tipped her lips.

"Just me. What's so surprisin' 'bout that?" Ellen asked at the look that came over the brunet's face. "It's quiet and peaceful here."

"You catch your own fish too?"

Ellen laughed, "Sometimes."

"Don't tell me . . . you're gonna eat those leaves your collectin' right? I mean you probably make shakes outta leaves and berries and dirt, right? Damn! I gotta introduce you to my partner. You and him have the same eating habits."

The woman laughed once more and Starsky could feel himself wanting to hear the warm, rich sound of her laughter again.

"So what are you doin' here, stranger?" Ellen finally asked, buttoning the pouch closed as she dusted the dirt from her jacket.

"Came here to get some rest and relaxation. We're stayin' at a friend's cabin about five miles up the road."

"Rest and relaxation, huh?" Ellen murmured, once again looking at the face of the weary brunet. "How's that workin' for ya?"

Starsky shrugged. "It's good, I guess. Comin' from the city, sometimes the quiet ain't all its cracked up to be, ya know?"

The woman stooped down and picked more of the thin green leaves and handed them to Starsky. "Here, you should try some of this."

The brunet stared at the leaves he held and then raised bright blue eyes to search the woman's face. "What is it?"

"Chamomile leaves. Brew it into a tea. It'll help calm and sooth ya. Might help ya to sleep at night."

Starsky frowned, "Are you like related to Grizzly Adams or somethin'?"

Ellen laughed, "I used'ta study medicine way back when. There's a lot to be said about the medicinal benefits that come from different herbs and plants. And no, I'm not related to anyone in the immediate area. Guess you could say I'm a hermit. My husband left me a long time ago, so there is no Grizzly Adams in my life."

"Oh." Starsky said, feeling suddenly bad as he once again sensed the pain behind the woman's words, wanting to kick himself for asking such stupid questions. The brunet looked over his shoulder at the familiar voice that called out behind him.

"Starsk? Where are you?"

It was Hutch and Starsky could hear the worry that laced his partner's usually calm voice. The brunet turned to gaze at the woman who smiled, hazel eyes warm and kind. "Looks like your friend is all worried 'bout ya."

Starsky snorted, "Yeah, he worries 'bout everythin'. I call him a mother hen sometimes."

"Ain't nuthin' wrong with that. Just shows that he cares 's all. Now you best hurry back 'fore he splits a gut." Ellen grinned.

"Starsky?"

The curly haired cop turned towards the sound of his partner's agitated voice. The brunet chuckled and turned back to invite Ellen over for a dinner of fried fish, but she was gone. The dark haired detective looked around, searching the foliage for the older woman and he startled when Hutch suddenly grabbed him from behind.

The blond laughed as he saw the branch his partner still held. "What? You think you could hit a bear with that?"

Starsky rolled his eyes. "She wasn't a bear! I know 'cause she didn't smell like one."

"What? Who's she?" the blond looked perplexed, light blue eyes taking in his surroundings. "Starsk, there's no one here, pal. You sure didn't get too much sun?"

The brunet shivered as he looked up at the gray skies, "What sun, you dummy. I'm freezin' my ass off. No, I met a broad out here. Her name was Ellen. Ellen Harris."

At Hutch's look of disbelief, Starsky huffed and stuck out his hand, "Here, she gave me these." The blond took the thin green blades of leaves and sniffed it suspiciously.

"It's chamomile," Starsky informed. "She told me to brew it and drink it, that it would help me relax and sleep better." At Hutch's strange look, Starsky snorted. "C'mon, Blondie. I'm freezin'! Let's take the fish back and I'll tell ya all 'bout Ellen in the car."

To be continued . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

_I am back, minus a uterus and cervix, and I'm recuperating slowly but surely ~Big grin~ Now that I am taking the time to write this note to you, I find that it's rather ironic that I began this story on Mother's Day. _

_You know, when I first started writing fanfic for this fandom, I was advised by a wonderful author, and friend, that I should keep WIP chapters down to about 2,200 words. In looking over the chapters I wrote, I realized I owe you all an apology. I noticed that the chapters I've posted so far have all been rather long- all have been over 4,000 words and some have been closer to 5,000. And now, well, this upcoming chapter is the longest one so far- well over 7,000 words, but try as I might, I just didn't know where to cut it . . . so I ask for your tolerance in reading it as a whole. I am sorry for being so long winded. This is a trait, unfortunately, that my writing professors in college had never been able to stomp out of me. Sigh. But then again, when my students ask me how long a paper has to be, I usually tell them, "As long as it needs to get your story told." So . . . this is how long it took me to get this chapter told . . ._

_And now, without further ado, I bring you chapter six . . ._

_Love & light, Shawne_

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

At Hutch's look of disbelief, Starsky huffed and stuck out his hand, "Here, she gave me these." The blond took the thin green blades of leaves and sniffed it suspiciously.

"It's chamomile," Starsky informed. "She told me to brew it and drink it, that it would help me relax and sleep better." At Hutch's strange look, Starsky snorted. "C'mon, Blondie. I'm freezin'! Let's take the fish back and I'll tell ya all 'bout Ellen in the car."

**~Chapter Six~**

The pungent smell of frying fish filled the small expanse of the wooden cabin. The tall blond hummed, white flour dusted the front of his tee shirt, nose, and cheeks, but Hutch didn't mind. He glanced over at his sleeping partner who reclined once more on the old couch in front of a crackling fire. The gentle patter of raindrops tapped a soothing cadence in the background as Hutch checked on the beans and potatoes. The handsome blond closed his eyes as he breathed in the delectable aroma, licking his lips, hungry for the taste of his catch.

Shifting his eyes once more to check on his partner, Hutch smiled. The brunet had been so excited, talking almost non-stop about his clandestine meeting of the strange woman in the woods.

_Ellen Harris._

The blond frowned. Though Hutch found it strange that the mysterious Ellen appeared to his partner in the woods, what he couldn't understand was why the woman disappeared the way she did. Starsky dismissed it, saying that she called herself a hermit and that maybe she didn't like people or something, but Hutch still found it perturbing.

A quiet groan made the blond look to his partner once again, noticing how the brunet, still fast asleep, tossed and turned. Hutch took the dish towel off of his shoulder, turned the fish over, then made his way to the couch knowing his friend was probably caught in the midst of the same nightmare that had plagued him for weeks. It disappointed Hutch to see Starsky still suffering from his dreams as he had hoped that their talk by the lake would have freed the brunet from his guilt over Sean's death.

Reaching over to gently wake his partner, Hutch startled backwards as Starsky bolted upright, eyes wide with horror, his breathing ragged and rapid, forehead glistening with perspiration. The tall blond detective carefully sat on the edge of the couch, gently reaching over to lay his hand on his partner's thigh, easing his friend back into the here and now.

"Hey, take it easy, buddy," Hutch soothed. "It was just a dream, pal . . . just a dream."

Starsky shuddered and turned to look at his partner, sapphire blue eyes wide like that of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The brunet raised a trembling hand and clutched the flour-covered shirt of the blond.

"H-Hutch?"

The plaintive and broken sound in the rough of his partner's voice made a lump form in Hutch's throat. His street-tough partner now sounded so lost and vulnerable and it squeezed the blond's heart till it hurt. Hutch lay his hand over the Starsky's that still clutched tightly onto the fabric of his tee-shirt. "Yeah, right here, buddy. It's okay . . . it's okay now, Starsk." Hutch whispered, rubbing small circles into the tense muscles of the brunet's thigh, feeling sad and worried for his dark haired friend. "Whatever it is that you were dreaming . . . it's over now. You're safe."

The brunet searched the taller man's face and then nodded silently, his heartbeat slowing down as he closed his eyes to collect himself, grounding himself in the warmth of his partner's presence. It felt good to have Hutch beside him, knowing that his partner was still very much alive and well, and that the bloody and dying "Hutch" in his dream was just that . . . a dream.

"You okay?" the blond murmured, light blue eyes full of concern and worry, feeling the slight tremors that still rocked his silent friend.

Starsky nodded once more, taking a deep breath to compose himself before lifting his head to look at his partner. "Yeah, 'm always okay . . . right?" The brunet curled the corners of his mouth in a weak grin.

"Right." Hutch sighed as he patted his partner's thigh once more. "Guess that means you aren't gonna share your nightmare with me, huh?"

Starsky sighed. "Hutch . . . I-I don' wanna talk about it, okay?"

"Why not, babe? It's just me. I won't tell a single soul. I swear!" The flaxen haired cop smiled gently, his eyes growing soft with the compassion he felt for his partner.

Starsky snorted as his longtime friend held up his baby pinkie. Shaking his head, the brunet replied, "No need to pinkie swear, pal. I trust ya."

"So why don't you tell me then," Hutch pushed, knowing he was walking on eggshells, hoping he wouldn't ignite the dark haired cop's fiery temper.

Starsky sighed again and then dragged a hand wearily through his tousled curls feeling suddenly irritated. He hated when Hutch wouldn't let things drop, when he kept pushing and prodding. The brunet could feel his heart beating rapidly as he thought back to the remnants of his dream, so tired of living through his partner's death night after night.

Taking a deep breath to push down the anger he felt inside, Starsky rose to his feet and walked over to the window, ignoring Hutch completely. Rivulets of water ran down the dirty windowpane as the cold wind blew through the grooves, chilling the dark haired cop even in the warmth of the small room. The tired brunet tensed and turned as he felt his partner come up behind him.

"Why won't you share with me what's going on in here, buddy?" Hutch softly whispered, reaching out a hand to place it gently against his partner's beating heart. "Are these nightmares the reason why you don't want to see the psychologist?"

The brunet's eyes narrowed in anger, and he shoved the blond's hand away, taking a step back to distance himself from his partner. "Fuck! Why can't you just drop it, huh Hutch? Why can't you just give me some space when I ask for it? I'm sick and tired of you mother henning me all the time."

The tall blond suddenly snapped back, "Yeah? Well I'm sick and tired of you pushing me away all of the time, pal! You think avoiding the issue is gonna help solve the problem? I want to help you, Starsky, but I don't know how to anymore. Maybe . . . maybe you should see the shrink, not just to snowball him, but to seek counseling for whatever it is that's eating you up inside. Maybe those idiots at Internal Affairs were right, if you can't even face what's going on in here," the angry blond pointed to his head, "Then you'd be a risk to everyone on the force and you're too good a cop not to know that!"

The dark haired detective swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and looked away from his friend to hide what was in his eyes. Hearing his partner's words killed him, broke him up into little pieces inside, and yet, if he were honest with himself, Starsky knew the truth of what Hutch just said. As messed up as he felt right now, the brunet knew he would be a liability to others if he remained a cop. In his line of work, there was no allowance for doubt or hesitation. Being a cop meant that you had to make quick decisions in a blink of an eye that could mean life or death for yourself, or for someone else. There were no room for mistakes, no room to vacillate or be indecisive, and maybe that was why Starsky couldn't bring himself to see the shrink just yet. There was no doubt in his mind that he could trick the doc into letting him go back to the force, but then he'd just be fooling himself because deep down, Starsky knew that something was broken inside and he couldn't go back on the streets like that. It would be a stupid mistake and foolhardy decisions like that could kill another cop . . . could kill Hutch . . . and that was a risk Starsky just wouldn't take!

Hutch closed his eyes in frustration, feeling angry with himself for not controlling his outburst. What he said was not what dark haired counterpart needed to hear right now, and the tall blond wanted to just kick himself in the head, but damn it, Starsky could be so frustratingly stubborn! The fair-haired detective glanced at his friend, seeing how torn and fragile the brunet really was and it choked Hutch to know that he had caused his friend even more pain than what he was already bearing.

"Starsky . . . I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I just . . . "

"Don't, Hutch," the dark haired cop interjected, feeling anger replacing the hurt he felt inside, taking another step back as the blond tried to move closer.

Hutch stopped moving as he saw his friend distance himself, his heart hurting at the look of uncertainty that crossed his partner's face. "I'm sorry, Starsk. I just . . .what I meant to say was . . ."

"You know what? You can stuff your apology!" Starsky cut in, blue eyes dark and stormy. "Maybe you're right, Hutch! Maybe I need to get out while I can, forget being a cop, leave the job before I get more people killed on my watch . . ."

"Hold on, I didn't say that . . ." Hutch broke in, feeling sick inside as his partner brushed past him, heading for the door. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Out!" Starsky snapped, slamming the wooden portal behind him.

"But it's raining!" Hutch said softly to no one. The blond huffed out a breath of frustration, wearily dragging a hand through his fine golden tendrils. Walking over to the couch, Hutch plopped himself down, throwing one of the pillows across the room in anger when he suddenly smelled the stink of blackened fish. "Ah, fuck!" the detective swore, throwing an arm over his eyes, not even caring anymore that the dinner he just made was ruined, burned beyond salvation.

"Fuck!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The smoke filled bar was quiet except for the few regulars who sat on barstools whispering to the bartender their sad drunken tales, drowning their sorrows in shot after shot of whiskey as their cigarettes burned down to stubs in the dirty ashtrays that lined the bar.

Starsky smiled before he took a swig from the bottle, eyeing the lady who sat beside him at one of the back tables, enjoying the company of the older woman who could hold her own when it came to guzzling beer. Ellen grinned and smacked her lips loudly as she placed her empty bottle on the table.

"You want another? I'm buyin'."

The dark haired cop raised a brow and laughed. "Ya finished already? What are ya . . . a man in disguise?"

Ellen chuckled, her golden brown eyes warm and sparkling. "You got a mouth on you, boy! You're lucky I didn't leave your sorry wet ass in the rain back there."

"Yeah, and that's why I wanna get this round too. I wouldn't be here dryin' off here, if it weren't for your passin' truck." Starsky replied, digging into his back pocket for his wallet.

Ellen shrugged, "T'weren't no trouble. We were both goin' in the same direction."

Starsky fished out a ten spot and handed it to the woman who refused to take it. The brunet frowned and said, "Hey, why were you up by our cabin anyway? If I remember right, you said you lived down by the lake."

"I do." Ellen replied; taking the money and shoving it back into the detective's wallet. "I was up there gatherin' some herbs that grow near to your neck of the woods when it started rainin'. Decided to leave once it looked like it wasn't gonna stop. I sure was surprised to see you running through the downpour with no jacket on. Never figured you to be an idiot."

"I don' know who was more surprised, me or you." Starsky grinned. "But you saved me from catching pneumonia so let me get that beer."

Ellen laughed and shook her head. "Nope. You already bought the first round. Now stop your whining and you can get the next one." The woman stood, tucking a few loose tendrils behind her ear that escaped the tightly knotted bun behind the back of her head, then turned and made her way to the bar.

Dark blue eyes followed the retreating back of the woman before turning to look at the empty beer bottle before him. Starsky sighed, reaching for the bottle to pick at the damp label surrounding the smooth glass. Feeling guilty now as he thought of the angry look on his partner's face, Starsky bit the bottom of his lip, his mind racing back to cabin and to the friend he deserted . . .

_Storming out of the cabin the way he did, the hot-tempered brunet soon realized his mistake in leaving without a jacket as the freezing raindrops and brutally cold wind took his breath away. Yet stubborn as he was, the dark haired cop refused to go back into the warmth of the cabin and trudged forward, walking as fast as his legs would carry him, breaking into a slow jog that quickly turned into a fast run down the mountainside road, the rain making the already broken blacktop slippery and unsafe. Starsky could still hear the words of his partner spinning through his mind as he tried to outrun them._

_"I think . . . maybe you should see the shrink, and not just to snowball him, Starsk, but to seek counseling for whatever it is that's eating you up inside. Maybe those idiots at Internal Affairs were right. I mean, if you can't even face what's going on in here," the angry blond pointed to his head, "Then you'd be a risk to everyone on the force and you're too good a cop not to know that!"_

_Breathing heavily, puffs of smoke emitting from his opened mouth, his limbs numb with the frigid cold, Starsky continued to run, wanting to leave behind the anguish and fear he felt in his heart, wanting to deny what he knew was the truth. He would be a risk to everyone if he went back to work with his head messed up and he would be the one to eventually fuck up and get Hutch killed someday if he stayed on the force, just like he did with Sean . . . just like he did with Terry._

_He couldn't do it any more, he couldn't keep being responsible for losing the ones he cared about, the ones he loved. Being a cop was everything to him, but the price he had to pay for keeping his job was just too high. It wasn't worth it anymore._

_Blinking the rainwater out of his eyes, Starsky gasped at the loud horn that honked just behind him. Lost in his thoughts the way he was, the brunet hadn't even heard the old pickup truck as it rambled behind him. Panting, his run coming to a stop as he stood to the side of the road, Starsky bent over and rested his hands on his knees, sucking in frigid air to relieve the burn in his aching lungs. Surprise widened the blue of his eyes as the window cranked down to reveal a familiar face._

_"Need a ride, city boy?" Ellen grinned as she leaned over and opened the door._

Starsky startled as Ellen placed the four bottles of beer on the tabletop with a resounding 'clunk'. "You done daydreamin', boy?"

"Hey, sorry," The brunet smiled sheepishly. I should'a helped ya carry those back. Don' know where my manners have gone."

Ellen chuckled. "No problem. I don't think your ma is around to kick your rude ass. 'Sides, it looks to me like you ain't getting' the rest and relaxation you came up here for. It's no wonder you're sleepin' with your eyes wide open. The chamomile not helpin'?"

Starsky snorted, "Didn't get a chance to try it yet, but thanks for the leaves."

Ellen nodded and sat heavily onto the stool, grabbing the neck of the nearest bottle to take a long swig. Rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, the older woman grinned and placed the bottle back on the tabletop. "Don't mention it. There's more where that came from." Ellen pushed back loose tendrils of hair that fell onto her face and then eyed the quiet brunet who squirmed uncomfortably under her intense and discerning gaze. "Hmmm . . . thought so," the woman murmured cryptically.

The dark haired detective frowned. "What?" Ellen shrugged dismissively and startled as Starsky reached over to grab the woman's wrist as she turned away. "What?" he asked again.

"Ain't none of my business." Ellen said, gently sliding her hand out from under the brunet's to reach for her bottle of beer, taking another long swig only to return the bottle to the table.

"Fine," Starsky said, not really wanting to push the woman into a conversation, but in his heart, the brunet wanted to talk to someone about the swirling thoughts that plagued his troubled mind before he had to go back to the cabin and see the hurt on his friend's face once more. The dark haired cop eyed the recluse and then sighed deeply, focusing his gaze on the scarred and worn wooden tabletop. "Why do you think I was out in the rain?"

"You askin' me or just talkin' to yourself?" Ellen questioned quietly, her hazel eyes soft and warm with compassion.

Starsky turned to look at the woman beside him, the corners of his mouth tipping into a weak smile. "Guess I'm askin'."

"Thought so," Ellen said slowly, giving much thought to what she was about to say. "Well, any fool could see you weren't exercisin'"

The dark haired cop snorted and tipped the bottle he held to his lips, his twinkling eyes never leaving the kind woman's face.

"So," the older woman continued, her voice soft and matter of fact. "I thought you were crazy when I first saw you runnin' in the rain and since I noticed that there weren't no bear chasin' ya down the road, I figured you must be upset . . . maybe runnin' from somethin' else?" Not waiting for an answer, Ellen continued, even as she watched the smile fade from the countenance of the handsome brunet. Feeling suddenly sad inside, the hermit turned to stare deeply into the brown glass of the beer bottle.

For a long minute both patrons sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. Sighing deeply, Ellen glanced up from the bottle to stare into pain-filled orbs as blue as sea. "Sometimes it's easier to run than to face the truth about somethin' that's buried deep inside, ya know? But mark my words, boy, no matter how far you run, it'll catch up with ya 'cause you can't never outrun the truth."

Starsky sighed, knowing exactly what the woman meant. The brunet cleared his throat and then swallowed down another mouthful of beer that suddenly didn't taste as appealing as it did before. The comfortable silence between them grew and Starsky finally forced his face muscles into a semblance of a grin before he said, "Sounds like you're speakin' from experience."

Ellen snorted, tilted her head back to empty her bottle before she finally said, "Oh yeah, I've lived a little longer than you have, son, so I know that 'experience' can be one hell of a bitch, forcing you to learn whatever lesson she deems necessary." The older woman shook her head sadly and shifted her eyes to the detective who sat beside her. "And what I've learned by living through experiences is that the more painful it is, the more you better pay attention and listen up. You gotta stand up and look it in the face and deal with it; 'cause if you don't, and you keep runnin', it's gonna just keep huntin' ya down. The hurt you're feelin' inside? It's like a wild beast that'll keep chewin' away at your gut 'til there's nothin' left. As hard as it is to talk about whatever it is you're runnin' from, Dave, its best to just face it because you're gonna hurt too many people you love if you keep runnin' from yourself and them."

Starsky closed his eyes and swallowed back the lump that had been forming in his throat as he listened to Ellen's soft words of wisdom. In his mind's eye, he could see the many times he'd hurt Hutch as he tried to shove the blond's concern and care away, burrowing so deep within his own pain that he was unable to see the pain he was causing his friend.

A ruckus near the door made the brunet lift long dark lashes, watching as three burly men in thick flannel jackets enter the dimly lit establishment and head towards the bar, laughing raucously, their voices boisterous and obnoxious. The oldest of the three jumped on a barstool and twirled around, obviously already intoxicated.

"Don't look at them," Ellen warned the detective, "They're just idiots who give our little town a bad name."

"Who are they?" Starsky inquired, hearing the men barking at the bartender for beer.

"Just overgrown punks who like to call themselves hunters." Ellen said, drinking from the other bottle. "They like to think they know everything and everyone, but they're just plain imbeciles 's all. The big guy with the graying temples and the beard? His name is Jake Edwards. He's the stupidest of the lot. Thinks he fancies me. Word around town says Jake has a tendency to go off the deep end sometimes. Rumor has it, he even killed a man once for lookin' at him wrong, but no one could prove anythin'. The boy with the dark long hair standin' next to Jake? That's his son, Johnny. Nice boy, more on the quiet side than his pa. I feel sorry for that boy being shackled in life to a retarded gorilla like his father."

Starsky snorted softly, amusement sparkling in his blue eyes at Ellen's choice of adjectives to describe the older man. The handsome brunet reached over to his other bottle of beer and was about to lift it to his lips when he suddenly tensed as the ape in question jumped off his barstool and walked over to their quiet table in the corner.

"Well, looky here, if it ain't the Doc!" Jake sneered, pointing to Ellen. "Hey boys, looks like Doc Ellen the hermit, has finally dug her way outta her little cabin. What's a matter honey? You tired of just looking at them trees? Maybe ya finally figured out ya need a man's man to show you a good time? And who's this?" The hunter leered at the silent cop, assessing the brunet like he would a new rifle. "Ya gots yourself a new beau, Ellen? Robbin' the cradle these days ain't ch'ya honey?" Jake threw back his head and roared with laughter, slapping his knee as his companions joined in.

"Shut your trap, Jake," Ellen warned. "I think you and your dimwitted boys should just mind your own business."

Jake's laughter sputtered to a stop and the burly hunter narrowed his eyes as it raked over the woman's face. "Well now, doc, I've always held a fondness for a handsome woman like you, but me and the boys know that ya sure need to work on being more friendly-like." Jake grinned and rubbed his bearded chin between his thumb and forefinger as he studied the reclusive lady. "Appears to me, that I might need to spend some time with ya and teach ya how to be more ladylike." The hunter wagged a brow suggestively as he reached out with the intentions to fondle the woman's breast, only to find his hand slapped away by the bristling brunet.

"She said to mind your own business," Starsky warned, dark blue eyes flashing ominously as he stood to eye the drunken hunter with disdain.

"Well now, I almost forgot about you," Jake grinned stupidly, his breath reeking with the stink of alcohol. "Now just go sit down, junior, 'cause this hea woman's mine and I don't take kindly to you badgering me 'bout her." The drunken hunter drew back a big fist to slug the brunet, but Starsky easily ducked the blow, grabbing Jake's arm and twisting it behind his back. The older man shrieked in anger and pain while his friends slapped their knees and guffawed at their struggling comrade.

Starsky twisted Jake's hand harder as he steered the bigger man to the door, shoving the hunter out with a well-placed kick to the older man's ass. Holding the door open as Jake sprawled to the wet dirt outside, Starsky turned to look at the other two men who quickly stood, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open. "Now you two at the bar . . . I suggest you leave right away, or maybe you need a lesson in manners like old Jake here?"

"Sorry, mistah. Me and Bobby just came hea to play some pool, didn't we, Bobby?" The tall red-head who stood beside the other boy with long dark hair and deep brown soulful eyes nodded. Both men, though big and muscular, seemed more rational than Jake did, and Starsky nodded warily.

"What's your name?" Starsky asked the man who just spoke, sensing a kindness in the large brown pools of his eyes.

"Name's Johnny. Johnny Edwards." The younger man grinned at the detective. "Don't mind my pa, mistah. He's just drunk 's all. His bark is worse than his bite. My pa's just mighty smitten with Doc Ellen. He means no harm."

"Like the kid said," the red haired hunter, Bobby, finally spoke up, "We don't want no trouble. Just came in here looking for a good time 's all. Might've had a few too many. Jake never was one who could handle too much brew."

"Then you boys should go home and sleep it off, and take Jake with ya." Starsky advised, nodding to the two hunters as they quietly passed him by on their way out the door. The curly haired cop watched as Johnny helped his drunken father to his feet and ambled off after Bobby into the darkness beyond the light coming from the bar and grill.

Starsky made his way back to the table and held the stool out for Ellen who stood up when the ruckus began. "Sorry 'bout that," the brunet said gallantly, as the woman beside him sat down once more. Straddling his own chair Starsky lifted his bottle to chug down the remaining contents of his beer.

"Bein' a hero always makes a man thirsty!" Ellen grinned, then laughed as Starsky snorted loudly.

"Hey, the guy had the hots for ya. I had to protect your honor." The dark haired detective grinned lopsidedly, making the older woman almost catch her breath as she stared into dark blue orbs that twinkled playfully.

"You better watch it, boy," Ellen warned. "Sweet talk like that might make me jump your bones if'n you ain't careful!" Both patrons laughed as Sam the bartender came over with two more bottles of beer on the house, ever thankful that no chairs and tables had been broken in the ruckus.

After a quiet lull of comfortable silence, the brunet picked up where they left off. "So, you were tellin' me about not runnin' . . ."

Ellen snorted softly, eyeing her good-looking companion, ready to pick up the conversation, as if there had been no interruption, if he was. "Yup, and facin' up to whatever it is that's hauntin' your ass." Ellen cut in, "'Cause it'll never leave ya alone until you own it, and deal with it."

"You really a doctor?" The inquisitive blue eyes made the older woman chuckle with mirth.

"Why, that too hard to believe?" Ellen replied flippantly.

"No," Starsky said quickly, "But you never said you were a doctor,"

"And you never said you were a bouncer, so we're even, I think." Ellen grinned and then tilted her head reflectively as her voice grew serious once more. "So just what do you do, Dave? And what are you runnin' from?"

"I'm a cop." Starsky said, "And I'll tell you what I'm runnin' from after you tell me what you're runnin' from since you obviously learned enough from all of your experiences to reach out and help me . . ."

"Ran from." Ellen softly corrected. "My story happened a long time ago and it's over now. I've dealt with it, I think. In any case, I've moved on." At the brunet's expectant look, Ellen sighed and then continued. "Once upon a time, I used to be a doctor in some fancy hospital down South. A surgeon, can you believe that?"

Starsky nodded, keeping silent as the woman took in a breath and continued. "Had me a handsome husband and beautiful little boy whom I named Joseph, but we just called him Joey, for short. He had light brown hair and the greenest eyes I've ever seen in a child. It was like a fairy tale – almost too g . . ."

"Too good to be true . . ." Starsky finished her sentence in a whisper, remembering how he felt when he first met Terry.

Ellen nodded; her hazel eyes were sad and distant as she thought back to her former life. "We lived in a beautiful "castle" surrounded by a white picket fence in a quiet little suburb just outside of the city. Sometimes when I think back to those days of yore, it seems almost dream-like." Ellen sighed softly, and then nodded. "We sure did have some good times in that house of ours."

"What did your husband do?" Starsky asked; his heart already hurting for the woman beside him, innately knowing that the story she wove would somehow end tragically.

"He was a professor at the university. It worked out fine 'cause he could stay home at night with our son. Me? I had to keep weird hours like most doctors do. My Jason was the sweetest and most lovin' man there ever was. Joey had his daddy's bright green eyes and his irresistible smile. I felt like the luckiest lady alive."

Ellen tipped back her head and emptied her bottle, her eyes never leaving those bright blue orbs that held her grounded to the here and now. Placing the bottle on the table, the older woman snorted softly, light hazel eyes growing dark as she continued, "My husband was a very intelligent man. That's why it makes me wonder even till this very day, why he just couldn't figure it out and forgive me about everything like I'd have forgiven him."

Starsky eyes softened with compassion, seeing the pain that registered on the woman's face. "What happened, Ellen? What is it?" the curly haired cop asked quietly.

Ellen snorted softly, but her beautiful brown eyes grew dull with the pain of remembering. "It happened one bright sunny day when I was caught up in surgery. The mayor of our city was on the table having an appendectomy when we ran into complications. Meanwhile, and unbeknownst to me, my little boy was home riding his little bike." Ellen smiled wistfully as she spoke, "Joey was so excited when Jason finally put the training wheels on his bike and he was gettin' real good too, so good in fact, that me and Jason had to always keep an eye on Joey whenever he rode around outside. You see; our driveway was a long and steep one leading out to the busy street below."

Starsky swallowed and nodded, feeling sick inside, his mind already piecing together the sad circumstances surrounding this mysterious woman, but the dark haired detective remained silent, letting Ellen continue, knowing it was somehow giving the recluse a sort of cathartic release to speak about her painful past.

Ellen sighed and glanced at the handsome man next her. A sad smile graced her lips before she said, "Guess it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened next does it?" Without speaking Starsky placed his hand over the woman's and gently squeezed as she softly continued. "According to Jason, the telephone rang and after warnin' Joey to stay put, he ran in to take the call. But you know kids, you can tell 'em till you're blue in the face; they just don't listen, do they?" Glistening hazel eyes searched a sea of blue before Ellen dropped her gaze back to the bottle she held.

"Jason said he watched Joey from the window the whole time he was on the phone, turning only once to grab a pencil from the drawer to scribble down the message from the caller. That's all it took. My little boy went down that driveway at full speed, not really knowing how to brake the bike and in a bl . . ."

"In a blink of an eye he was gone." Starsky murmured softly, blue eyes sad as he eyed the woman before him, hearing the soft tones of his partner as he remembered what Hutch had told him just this morning by the lake.

_". . . bad things happen to good people and . . . and in a blink of an eye, everything can change for the better or for the worse . . ."_

Ellen nodded lowering her own eyes to her hands, which she folded together on the tabletop. "A bus chose that exact moment to pass our driveway as Joey's bike burst out into the street. My little boy didn't stand a chance. They brought his broken little body into my hospital where he soon died, but I was still stuck in surgery. My husband was frantic, angry at me for not being there, but I had no idea. By the time I was informed that Joey was in the ER, he had already passed. I never even got to say goodbye."

The former doctor raised her eyes from her hands and glanced at the handsome cop. "Unlike most modern fairy tales, my story doesn't really have a happy ending," Ellen concluded softly. "Jason could never find it in himself to forgive me. He said I had always put my job above my family and I guess I had blamed him too, for not watchin' Joey properly. The story ends with the break up of my marriage and me comin' out here to live alone. Guess both Jason and I just couldn't live with the memories and with each other anymore after the loss of our son."

"You gave up being a surgeon?"

"Yup. After losin' my boy and my husband, my fancy job meant nuthin' to me no more. It's funny how losin' a loved one can bring clarity to someone who was blinded by ambition. It's been years since I've used my doctorin' skills. I gave it up a long time ago. Swore I'd never cut into another livin' soul for as long as I lived."

"I'm sorry," Starsky whispered, squeezing the hand he still held once more.

Ellen smiled wistfully, her brown eyes soft like liquid cinnamon. "It's okay, Dave. Like I said, that was a long time ago. Now you know all about me and how I got here, so why don't you tell me what you're runnin' from?"

A small smile tweaked the corners of the brunet's mouth. "You don't mince your words, do you?"

"Nope." Ellen grinned, reaching over to grab another bottle. "Learned that a long time ago. So, go on, tell me your story."

"My story involves a little boy too." Starsky began softly, tipping his head back to empty his bottle, liquid courage needed to continue. "A little over a month ago, my partner and I responded to a call. A boy had been missing for three days and we found him in a basement with the pedophile who had kidnapped him from the park."

"Oh, God," Ellen murmured sadly, her heart breaking at the thought of what the boy had endured.

"Yeah," Starsky sighed softly before he continued. "The scum bag had a razor to Sean's throat and he warned me and Hutch to stay away. It was obvious the boy was traumatized and when he asked for help, calling out for his ma -- well, I inadvertently took a step forward and the son of a bitch sliced the kid open."

Ellen silently laid a comforting hand on the back of Starsky's wrist. "You know it wasn't your fault that he died, right? It was a random act of violence that you walked in to and tried to prevent."

The dark haired cop lowered his lashes hiding the sudden anguish that flared in the bright blue of his eyes. "He died in my arms, Ellen. His blood was all over me and he was lookin' at me to save him and I couldn't. The knife sliced through his jugular and he bled out even as I applied direct pressure . . ."

"There was no way you could have saved him, Dave." Ellen consoled.

"Yeah, there was. If I didn't move, if I stayed still like the asshole wanted, Sean would be alive today. I should'a been more . . ."

Ellen shook her head, her hazel eyes sad, but wise; her voice calm and soothing as she softly interjected, "Don't do this to yourself, Dave. You'll just go round and round, and things will spin outta control. Take it from me; beating yourself up won't fix anything 'cause at the end of the day, that little boy would still be dead. I know you feel bad and you wished you'd have done things differently, but it's done now, and there ain't no way to go back. We all have hindsight after the fact. That's why they say hindsight is 20/20. Me and Jason, we did the same thing after our little Joey died. My ex husband would say, 'I should'a watched him more closely, I should'a let the damn phone ring and I'd say, 'I should'a stayed home that day and let another surgeon do the operation. If I had been home, I would'a been there outside with Joey and he would'a still been alive.' Believe me, Dave, you can speculate all you like, but the fact is that Sean is gone and it wasn't your fault. You didn't kidnap him, or rape and kill him, and you have nothing to feel guilty about. Hell, you're a cop and you tried your best to save him! You don't have to carry this cross."

"Yeah, it took me a while, but I think I finally have my head on straight about that. I can still see his eyes though. Sean's eyes were so green . . ."

"Green like my Joey's . . . and let me guess, you have nightmares about him, don'chya? Is that what's keepin' ya from sleepin' at night?"

Starsky shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. I don't know anymore . . ." the weary cop sighed, dragging his hand through his curls in frustration.

"Yes you do, you do know." Ellen said simply, "And when you're ready to face and talk about whatever it is that's keeping you up at night, only then can you stop runnin'."

To be continued . . .


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun. 

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

"Green like my Joey's . . . and let me guess, you have nightmares about him, don'chya? Is that what's keepin' ya from sleepin' at night?"

Starsky shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. I don't know anymore . . ." the weary cop sighed, dragging his hand through his curls in frustration.

"Yes you do, you do know." Ellen said simply, "And when you're ready to face and talk about whatever it is that's keeping you up at night, only then can you stop runnin'."

**Chapter Seven~**

"So did you?"

"What?"

"Stop running?"

"What d'ya think? I'm here, ain't I?"

"Yes, you are. So, I take it that you told Hutch about your nightmares then."

(Silence)

"Did you tell him, Dave?"

"And what if I didn't? Are ya gonna declare me unfit to be a cop? Are ya gonna write in your report that I'm a risk to the safety of my fellow officers? You gonna tell Dobey that I'm unsafe to be on the streets with Hutch, that I can't do my job and watch his back?"

"Are you a risk?"

"You know what? Fuck this! This is goddamn bullshit!"

"I need you to sit down, Dave."

"And I need you to just get to the point!"

(Pacing)

"You know, David, everyone has nightmares. I would imagine that police officers have their fair share of bad dreams with some of the horrific things they see on a daily basis."

"Ya don't even know the half of it! There's a lot of crap that happens on the streets."

"Yes, I'm sure there is, Dave; and I'm quite sure that there are times that you must get sick of your job."

"Yeah? And how do you know that?"

"You think you're the only cop who gets to sit in my most comfortable chair?"

(A quiet snort)

"So go on, tell me, Dave. How did you tell Hutch about your nightmares?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hutch stepped into the sudden warmth of the dingy bar and grill, squinting slightly, adjusting to the light from the darkness outside. Pale blue eyes darted around the small establishment to finally settle upon the back of the room where the pool table was, where he saw the familiar sight of his partner leaning over the tabletop to casually roll the colored balls across its green, felted surface.

The tall blond could feel the tight muscles in his shoulders relax and he quietly let out the breath he was unaware of holding. Walking quickly to the bar, Hutch quietly ordered two mugs of beer and made his way over to the back of the room with his peace offering, a hesitant smile spreading across his face as his partner looked up at his approach.

"Hey," Starsky greeted softly as he straightened to stand, nodding his chin at his partner. "'Bout time you showed up. Been waitin'. What took ya so long?" Though Starsky's dark blue eyes twinkled with affection, Hutch could still sense the wariness the brunet felt deep inside, although Starsky covered it well with an air of feigned nonchalance.

Hutch snorted softly, feeling suddenly relieved at his partner's attempt at playful banter, innately knowing that somehow everything was gonna be okay now. "Oh, I don't know. Didn't think you'd be stubborn enough to stay out in the rain so long with no jacket and all. After a while I figured out you were probably holed up somewhere, freezing your ass off, and I was forced to use my awesome detective skills to track you down."

Starsky gave his smiling partner his infamous lopsided grin. "And it took you this long to "track" me down to the only place open in this godforsaken town? Your 'awesome' detective skills need a lot of work, Hutchinson!" Both cops chuckled as Starsky rolled another shiny ball across the table, smiling as Hutch reached out to stop the ball's journey by grasping it in his large hand. For a moment, both eyes connected before Starsky finally looked away, turning his gaze to the glass of amber colored liquid. "So, how was the fish? Any good?"

"Didn't eat it."

Starsky shifted his gaze from the mug he held to look at his partner. "How come? You missed me too much?" The brunet smiled prettily and batted his long lashes coquettishly at the tall blond.

Hutch snorted, a slight blush coloring the long expanse of his neck, rising slowly to the tips of his ears. For a man, his partner had eyelashes any girl would kill for. The handsome blond cleared his throat, "Well, that too, but mostly because the fish was burnt beyond being edible."

"Oh." Starsky said quietly, feeling bad inside. "I'm sorry, Blintz. Didn't mean t'ruin dinner, especially after it took you so long t'catch the damn things."

"Nah, you didn't ruin anything. It was my fault. I'd forgotten about the trout until I smelled it burning in the pan." The blond cop laughed, looking around the bar and grill, "Guess we'll have to eat here again tonight."

"My treat," Starsky graciously offered, "Only um . . . I think I only have a five on me, so I'll pay ya back." The brunet smiled sheepishly as Hutch chuckled.

"No need, it's my treat, pal." The blue of Hutch's eyes softened with the fondness he felt towards his partner. "And anyway, you wouldn't have been out here at all if I hadn't opened my big mouth and . . ."

"Hey," Starsky quietly interjected, "Don't." The brunet lowered his eyes to the rack of colorful balls he'd just set up. "About what happened today . . . and even about this whole . . . well, just know it's never been your fault, Hutch," Starsky said softly, absently reaching out to finger the soft green felt covering the pool table.

The brunet sighed softly before he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, "This whole mess has been about me and I . . . it's just that . . . well, things have been hard since the Fitzgerald case and . . ." The dark haired cop cleared his throat uncomfortably, lashes slowly lifting to reveal dark blue eyes filled with remorse. "I know, you know, that I've been having nightmares and I know you've been wantin' to talk about 'em, Hutch, its' just that talkin' about stuff . . . well, ain't easy for me."

"I know, buddy," Hutch said softly. "You hate soapy scenes."

Starsky snorted quietly and then took a deep breath, "Yeah, but it don't make it right. I know ya been worried, and it ain't fair the way I been actin'. I guess I just wanted ya t'know that we will talk . . . tonight . . . when we get back to the cabin. But for now, can we just have a nice dinner and talk about stuff like fishin'?"

Hutch smiled warmly, stopping himself from chuckling out loud, knowing how much Starsky hated fishing. "Sure, buddy. Whatever you want," Hutch willingly agreed, just glad to have his partner's camaraderie back. "But I'm gonna hold you to your promise, Starsk . . . that we're gonna talk tonight. Do we have to pinkie swear on that?" The blond wagged his pale eyebrows as he crooked his baby finger and held it up.

The handsome brunet shook his head and chuckled softly. "Nope, no need to do that. You have my word on it, partner!"

"Great!" Hutch said, a huge smile lighting up his face. The blond rubbed his hands together with excitement as he walked around the pool table and threw his arm around his dark haired companion's shoulder. "Let's go eat then, Gordo! I am starving!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hutch grinned as he leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and spied a shivering Starsky bending over in his red long johns, rummaging through his duffle on the bed to finally pull out a blue flannel plaid shirt, which he immediately buttoned over his chest. The rain was coming down hard now, beating a loud rhythm on the tin roof of the cabin and the chill in the room was substantial. The blond chuckled softly, wondering how Starsky ever survived the harsh winters in New York when he was just a kid.

Turning at the sound, the brunet grinned. "Ya spyin' on me in my vulnerable state of undress, Hutchinson? Gonna give me the willies with you sneakin' up on me like that, pal." The scrunched up nose and opened mouth of the dark haired cop was the only warning Hutch got before Starsky let out a loud sneeze.

Hutch frowned as he stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to his friend's duffle bag. "You okay, Starsk? Maybe you're coming down with something after being soaked in the downpour today?"

The brunet snuffled and dragged a finger under his nose. "Nah, I told ya, I barely got wet since Ellen gave me a ride to the bar."

Hutch nodded, silently wondering when his tight-lipped partner was gonna reveal more than just his run-in with Ellen. All night long since coming back to their mountain retreat, Hutch had waited patiently for Starsky to talk to him, not wanting to push the issue himself; and now that they were getting ready for bed, the tall blond wondered if perhaps Starsky was gonna renege on his promise to talk, after all. Hutch watched as the brunet shifted his eyes away, uncomfortable with the sudden silence that permeated the small room.

The curly haired cop silently lifted his bag and carried it back to the old battered dresser, zipping the duffle closed before making his way to his side of the bed. Hutch continued to watch as his partner lifted the covers and slid underneath the quilt, reaching over to blow out the lantern before settling down once more; the room now dark and shadowed.

Sighing with disappointment, Hutch followed suit, sliding his long frame under the blanket to lie beside the warm body of his partner, consciously aware of Starsky squirming around beside him. The blond slid his arms under his head and tracked the cracks in the ceiling as he listened to the raindrops drumming overhead, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to broach the subject he knew his partner was avoiding. Turing his head, Hutch quietly asked, "You comfy now? Or do you have termites in your underwear?"

"Huh?"

Hutch smiled, feeling his partner's head pressing into the pillow as the brunet turned to stare at his blond counterpart in the dark. "You're squirming! Thought maybe you had an itch or something." Hutch stated softly. "You okay?

"Yeah," Starsky sighed, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling. "I mean . . . I haven't forgotten that promise I made at dinner. It's just that . . . it's just . . . I don't know where to start."

"I see," Hutch whispered gently. "Well, why don't you tell me what's been keeping you awake at night?" The blond held his breath, hoping he hadn't pushed too much to warrant his partner's withdrawal once more. If Starsky pulled away now, Hutch didn't know if he could bear it.

Starsky closed his eyes; long dark lashes hiding the sudden anxiety that rose in his gut at his partner's soft words. _'What could he say to Hutch? That he was frightened? That he was afraid of going back to work, going back to the streets, when it had been his life's calling for so long?'_ Even listening to himself running through his mental jargon made Starsky feel so weak inside, so girl-like! Hutch was his partner, a cop who risked his life on a daily basis to stand up for justice, to right the wrongs that plagued the world.

_A White Knight in shining armor._

Starsky knew the blond depended on him to keep him alive, to watch his back. _'How would Hutch feel knowing his partner was a pansy assed wimp, afraid of his own shadow?'_ The silent brunet let out a heavy sigh feeling the weight of the moment resting upon his shoulders; knowing that Hutch was being more than patient with him over the long haul of the Fitzgerald's case and the repercussions that had followed.

"Hey, buddy. You know, it's okay. Really. Why don't you just try to get some shut-eye and we can . . . we can talk tomorrow if you want." Hutch's honey-laced tone, his quiet voice of reassurance, did nothing to soothe the erratic beating of the brunet's heart.

His partner was giving him an out, allowing Starsky to back out of his promise with dignity! Starsky swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as he felt Hutch gently lay his leg over his own under the quilts; the blond's heavy limb was meant to be comforting and reassuring in the quiet darkness of the bedroom, yet all it did was make Starsky feel even worse, making the acidic remnants of guilt burn even more in his already roiling gut.

'_God, he loved Hutch so much! Hutch was everything good in an often times bad world. He was the light to Starsky's darkness, the rope that held him together when everything was falling apart. If he ever lost Hutch to the streets . . .'_

For a minute or two, both cops listened to the song of the rain as it continued to play its rhythmic beat upon the rooftop; until with a sigh of resignation, Hutch eventually turned to his side, his back facing his partner's. "G'night, buddy," the blond whispered.

Sapphire colored eyes roamed around in the darkened room, unable to find a focal point as he listened to the quiet breathing of his partner beside him. _He knew Hutch was still awake. He knew it was now or never . . ._

"Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Ya sleepin'?"

"Yup!"

"Good. Thought so. G'night!"

A quiet snort made the brunet smile in the darkness and his partner's next words made Starsky begin to chuckle quietly under the covers.

"You know, Starsk, you never fail to amaze me, buddy! There are times that you are so perceptive . . ."

"I'm a good guesser, I guess." Starsky whispered back with a grin.

"I see," Hutch replied softly. "So um . . . can you guess what I'm thinking now?"

Starsky closed his eyes, his smile fading as he said, "Either you're silently flippin' me off, or you're wonderin' if I'm gonna keep my promise or not."

Hutch smiled softly in the dark of the room, rolling back slightly to peer over his shoulder at his curly haired partner. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Gonna keep your promise to me?"

Starsky snorted softly, "Don't I always keep my word?"

"Most of the time."

"_Most_ of the time?"

"When it comes to your promise of slowing down on your consumption of junk food, I've yet to see your '_word'_ reach fruition."

"Huh!"

Hutch grinned, enjoying their silly bantering, knowing Starsky was gearing up to reveal whatever it was that was tearing him up inside. The tall blond turned to his side once more, back to his partner, as he waited for the brunet's next move. It didn't take long before Starsky once again started up the conversation.

"Hey, Hutch? Ya sleepin'?"

"Yup. Still sleeping."

"Ok. Good. 'Cause I think I'm ready to talk now."

"Okay. Good. 'Cause I'm still listening." Hutch whispered back, fighting to remain where he was, with his back turned to Starsky, although he desperately wanted to make eye contact with his partner. Hutch knew how difficult this was for the brunet, thinking that if he didn't look at his friend, Starsky would have an easier time with whatever it was he had to say.

Hutch could hear his partner sighing heavily in the dark and his heart went out to his curly haired counterpart. The handsome blond closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, stopping himself from telling his longtime friend that he needn't say anything if he wasn't ready to. Starsky didn't need an out. What Starsky needed was to purge himself of whatever it was that was eating him up inside, and the only way the brunet was gonna get rid of that was to talk about it.

"Well, ya know how I've been havin' these nightmares and all . . ."

"Yes, nightmares about Sean . . ."

"Yeah," Starsky sighed sadly. "Whenever I blinked or closed my eyes, I could see the kid's eyes; green eyes staring straight at me. And then, once I fell asleep, the boy made a nightly appearance in my dreams and I just . . ."

Starsky's voice was rough with pain, and the abrupt way his partner never finished his sentence made the blond turn over to look the brunet in the eye. "Starsk, it wasn't your fault . . ."

"I know," Starsky said with a sigh. "Random acts of violence, right? At the lake, you helped me to see that, Hutch; how things can change in a blink of an eye . . ."

"But there's something else, isn't there?" Hutch asked gently. "Something else that's pulling at you." Hutch frowned in the dark as Starsky suddenly sat up on the edge of the bed and ran his hand through his dark curls in frustration. "What is it, Starsk? You can tell me . . ."

"Ya know those dreams of the kid? Well, they . . . they started changin' after a while." Starsky began hesitantly.

"Changing?" Hutch reiterated. "Changing how?"

"I don't know . . . jus' . . . jus' changin'."

Hutch frowned, trying to piece together what his partner wasn't saying. "So, these changes . . . is this what's keeping you from making that appointment to see the psychologist?"

At the brunet's silence, Hutch's frown deepened. "Starsky, what is it? What are you dreaming about?"

"Nuthin'," Starsky finished lamely. "You want me to go see that shrink, then I will if it'll make you happy."

"If it'll make me . . ." Hutch repeated, eyes widening with understanding. "Those dreams, those changes. You're not seeing Sean anymore, are you? It's me you're seeing, isn't it? You're seeing me die instead of Sean, aren't you?

Starsky closed his eyes, long lashes hiding the pain he felt as he remembered the vivid dreams of Hutch biting the dust, time after time. The brunet lowered his head and nodded miserably. "Almost every night, Hutch, I see you dyin' right before my eyes and there's nuthin' I can do t'save ya."

Hutch sat up slowly, easing his long legs over the side of the bed to quietly sit beside his hunched over partner. "Starsky, it's just a dream . . ."

"For now," the brunet interjected, "But what happens when it comes true, huh?" The brunet turned to look at his partner and even in the darkness surrounding them, Hutch could see the startling pain and bleak despair in his friend's shimmering eyes. "I can't lose you, Hutch. God, if you ever died on my watch, I jus' . . ."

"Hey, take it easy, buddy," Hutch murmured softly, reaching out to rub the tense muscles in his partner's back. "It's just a dream, Starsky. I'm right here, alive and well, sitting right beside you."

Starsky shook his head and shut his eyes to the soothing voice of his partner. "Ya keep askin' me why I don't wanna make the appointment for the shrink, but don'chya see, Hutch? One day, it could be you dyin' out there on the streets and that's a risk I jus' ain't willin' to take anymore."

"So what are you saying? You gonna just give up? You gonna just let Dreyden and Simonetti win? You love this job, Starsky. It's in your blood, in your soul! You're father was a cop and . . ."

"My pop is dead! Dead, Hutch! Gunned down on the filthy streets he fought so hard to keep safe!" Starsky snapped, rising to his feet as he turned to glare at his fair-haired partner. "Sure we can go back, and I can make the shrink write up a glowing report to give to Dobey. We'll be back at Metro in a blink of an eye, but for what? For what, Hutch? Just for you to take a bullet one day?"

Hutch swallowed back the lump that lodged in his throat as he read the stark pain that was plastered on his partner's face; watching silently as his dark haired counterpart paced to and fro like a wild animal locked in a cage. The handsome blond could understand where the brunet was coming from, after all, hadn't he shared these exact same thoughts so many times before?

"Starsky, I know how you feel. I worry about you too, buddy, all the time. There's not a day that goes by where I wonder if this will be your last day, or mine, but I force those kinds of crippling thoughts from my mind. I can't allow myself to think like that because thoughts like those are paralyzing. Do you remember that day in the alley? That time I froze and nearly got you killed? I was shaking so hard, Starsk, and you helped me to get my head back in the game."

The brunet now stood by the window, silently lifting the worn curtains aside to look out as the rivulets of rainwater blurred his vision. "You were right to be scared, Hutch. You lost Gillian to the streets, and I lost my Terry. I just . . . I won't lose you too, Hutch. I can't!" Starsky sighed wearily, his eyes never leaving the windowpane. Starsky's voice was rough and broken as he finally admitted, "I'm tired, Hutch. Haven't we given enough? Maybe it's time we try to find some happiness for ourselves."

Hutch took in a deep breath and dragged a hand through the fine golden locks that even now shimmered in the darkness of the room. The pain he felt from his partner slammed into him, yet he couldn't allow Starsky to just give up, to just throw the towel in. No one understood better than Hutch the risks they took everyday on the streets. Usually it was the blond who needed the strong back of his partner to carry him when the rage and violence they saw everyday washed over him, dragging him down into the undertow of despair. It was Starsky who reached out and saved him time and again, and Hutch could do no less for his hurting partner. Starsky just needed a gentle push in the right direction. Hutch's voice was soft and compassionate, "So I'm gonna ask you again, Starsky. What are you saying to me? You saying you want to quit the force?"

There was a moment of profound silence in the tiny bedroom, the only sound being heard was the pattering of raindrops that continued to fall. Hutch waited with baited breath for his partner to come to his senses, but Starsky's next words blew him totally out of the water.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's exactly what I'm sayin'," Starsky replied, his voice rough now and devoid of any emotion. "I wanna head back tomorrow. No sense prolongin' the inevitable. And when I get back to Bay City, I'm turnin' in my resignation to Dobey!"

To be continued . . .


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun. 

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

There was a moment of profound silence in the tiny bedroom, the only sound being heard was the pattering of raindrops that continued to fall. Hutch waited with baited breath for his partner to come to his senses, but Starsky's next words blew him totally out of the water.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's exactly what I'm sayin'," Starsky replied, his voice rough now and devoid of any emotion. "I wanna head back tomorrow. No sense prolongin' the inevitable. And when I get back to Bay City, I'm turnin' in my resignation to Dobey!"

**~Chapter Eight~**

"Ya got the fryin' pan?"

"Yup."

"Ya got your fishhooks and reel?"

"Yup."

"Packed the first aid kit and blankets?"

"Yup, right here, pal," Hutch mumbled, pale blue eyes lifting from the blanket he was folding to look over at his dark haired counterpart who shoved some used towels, sheets and dirty clothes into another empty cardboard box. The tall blond was thankful at least that his partner was trying to initiate conversation after their little flare up a while back. That was a step in the right direction from the moody brunet!

Hutch sighed softly raising one hand to drag his fingers through his fine golden hair, looking around the sparse room only to spot his partner's duffle near the front door. The blond frowned, the furrow between his eyes deepening as he stared at the bag. In a way, Hutch had hoped he could talk Starsky into staying out the week like they initially planned, but the brunet was having none of it. "So um . . . you got your stuff all packed up?"

Cobalt colored eyes connected to the blue of the sky, and then quickly shifted away. The tall blond pushed down the irritation that rose to the forefront, feeling the distance growing between them once again. Hutch hated when Starsky shut him out, stubbornly withdrawing, unable or unwilling to communicate! After last night's declaration of leaving of the force, the brunet had rolled over and refused to talk any more, claiming exhaustion after a long day of fishing. Hutch knew it was just Starsky's ploy to escape any more discussion about his impulsive decision to quit his job and it pissed Hutch off to no extent. Yet, the blond too, rolled over and forced himself to bite his tongue, deciding to let his hotheaded partner cool off for a bit before trying to redirect his thinking on the subject of his resignation.

Hutch sighed and turned to look at the rivulets of water that ran down the dirty windowpane, blurring his sight of the forest beyond. It would be muddy out there from all the rain and with the wind chill factor, freezing to boot. The fair haired detective didn't relish the idea of stepping out into the elements, but Starsky was stubbornly adamant about leaving today, not wanting to delay his decision about his job any longer. The blond looked over his shoulder towards the bedroom, spying the stripped mattress, remember how they had lazed around for a bit before ending up in another heated discussion . . .

_The heavy rains continued to fall throughout the night and into the next day, bringing with it a freezing wind that shook the needles from the trees, rocking the tall pines to and fro. The two detectives slept in until late afternoon -- the chilly room, the white noise of the storm outside, the darkened sky, the heavy blankets and the body warmth of his partner added to the safe and cozy feeling of shared slumbering._

_It was Hutch who woke first, drowsily lifting pale lashes several times before they held open on their own. At first disoriented, the handsome blond soon got his bearings, listening to the loud torrents of the rainwater as it slid off the old tin roof, becoming suddenly conscious of the warm body that snuggled into his side. Hutch smiled gently, turning his head slowly to look at the head of curls that rested upon his shoulder. A flash of lightening brightly illuminated the shadows in the room, revealing his sleeping partner's countenance. _

_With his face muscles relaxed in slumber, Starsky looked younger than he was, almost boyish in his years, especially with his long dark lashes pressed lightly upon his cheeks. The brunet flinched as a roll of thunder boomed in the distance, and Hutch instinctively soothed his friend by gently rubbing his partner's arm. The fair-haired cop's soft smile widened as Starsky sighed; his hand sliding up to fist the shirt Hutch wore. _

_As the tiny bedroom became illuminated once more with another flash of lightening, Hutch sighed too, remembering their conversation from the previous night. The silent blond wondered just how serious his partner really was about quitting the force. A low rumble of thunder sounded and Hutch felt his sleeping partner flinch; Starsky's muscled body jolting once again as the brunet clenched Hutch's shirt even tighter. Hutch could feel the perspiration now leeching from his friend's tense and heated body._

'_Awww, Starsk,' Hutch thought sympathetically, knowing his friend was having another nightmare. The flaxen haired cop gently squeezed his partner's shoulder, silently reassuring Starsky through touch alone that he was safe and supported as he slept._

"_H-Hu . . no . . .no," Starsky murmured, his head jerking against his partner's chest as the dream escalated._

"_Hey," Hutch whispered soothingly against the dark, sable curls, gently shaking the brunet, "It's just a dream, buddy. I'm right here, right beside y . . ."_

"_NO!" Starsky cried out, jolting awake into a sitting position, his breathing rapid and irregular, eyes wide and clouded with horror and confusion._

"_Take it easy, Starsky," Hutch whispered, slowly sitting up as he watched his dazed companion. "We're in the cabin, you're safe, pal, and I'm safe too." The blond purposely gentled his voice to calm the frayed nerves of his partner who blinked owlishly in the dark of the room._

_Still breathing heavily, Starsky turned to stare blankly at the blond beside him. "Hutch?"_

_The whispered name was spoken so softly, so brokenly, that it tore at Hutch's heartstrings. "Y-you okay?"_

_Hutch smiled sadly, witnessing the hurt and loss so clearly in his partner's familiar blue eyes. It killed the blond to see his usually rambunctious partner like this. The vulnerability and pain he read in Starsky's eyes brought out the protective streak in Hutch, and the fair-haired cop reached over to gently squeeze his friend's shoulder. "Yeah . . . yeah, I'm just fine. See? I'm right here, babe, just like always. I'm not going anywhere."_

_The brunet nodded silently and shuddered, letting out a cleansing breath as he tried to erase the vivid image of Hutch's blood coating his hands, as he tried to get a hold of his raging emotions. Feeling suddenly stupid and self-conscious as Hutch moved his large hand to rub soothingly against his back, Starsky gently pulled away, removing himself from the reach of his partner. "'M okay now, Hutch. Thanks," the brunet whispered awkwardly, his voice rough and gravelly._

"_Sure," Hutch whispered back, hiding the disappointment he felt as Starsky moved away. For a few minutes, both men listened to the sound of the rain beating against the little wooden cabin until Starsky slid from the bed and walked over to peek out the window, rubbing his arms as the chill in the room quickly set in. _

_Watching his silent, brooding friend, Hutch could almost feel Starsky's fear as the brunet tried to push it down. "Another bad one, huh?"_

"_I'll live." Starsky shrugged, his shoulders lifting slightly, as he eyed the raging storm outside. Though it was nearly noon, the sky was still dark and ominous and the brunet thought that the elements mirrored the churning feelings brewing within him. "But, I don' know if you will . . ."_

_The latter words were whispered so softly that at first, Hutch thought that he had imagined them. The blond stood and walked over to stand beside his curly haired freind. "Starsk, it was just a dream, a nightmare. I'm still here, buddy, standing right beside you and . . ."_

_The brunet whipped his head up to glare at the taller man. "Yeah, but for how long, huh?" Starsky interjected, his smoldering blue eyes glittering angrily as it caught the light from the flash that flared, illuminating the dark sky as well as the fair features of his light-haired partner. _

_The dark haired cop turned to stare out into the darkness once more, though his eyes darted to and fro, the blond knew his partner wasn't really seeing anything. _

"_Starsk, you can't keep doing this to . . ."_

_The brunet interjected softly, "Every night, Hutch. Every night, I see you dyin' and I just think . . . I mean, what if this is some kind of warnin', some kind of sign . . ."_

"_Oh c'mon, Starsk. You've never been a follower of Collandra. You don't believe in stuff like that," Hutch reminded the brunet gently. _

"_Yeah, well, maybe I should!" Starsky replied as he continued to stare out the window. "Anyway, it won't matter once we get back to Bay City. When we quit the force, my nightmares about you dyin' on the streets won't come true."_

"_Who's says I'm quitting?" Hutch asked softly, watching as his partner slowly turned to face him, dark blue eyes wide and questioning._

"_What?" Starsky's voice held disbelief. "Hutch? You and me, we always talked about it 'member? That if you ever left the streets then I would too, and visa versa. Me and thee, right?" Dark blue eyes earnestly searched the familiar pale blue orbs of the taller man._

_The fair-haired cop swallowed the lump that lodged deep in his throat before quietly replying, "It's still is me and thee, buddy. It'll always be you and me. You're the best friend I have in the whole world, Starsky, but . . . but, I'm not quitting . . . and neither are you. You're not a quitter!" Hutch reached out to touch the rigid brunet, only to have Starsky angrily jerk away._

_The blond sighed, feeling sick inside as his brooding partner turned back to look out the window once more. "Look, Starsk, I know you're spooked . . . that the dream shook you. Hell, I've had nightmares with you in the starring role too, and yeah, it totally sucks, but that's just the reality of our jobs. We're cops, Starsky! We risk our necks everyday to keep people safe on the streets, to keep each other safe. We see a lot of sick things and violence out there! It's no wonder we have horribly vivid dreams."_

_Hutch took a breath and waited for a response from his silent partner. When none came, the blond desperately continued, wanting his partner to understand and change his mind about leaving the force. "Starsk, we've both been under a lot of stress with the Fitzgerald's case and it's bound to have residual effects. I think your mind is just reacting to everything, manifesting in these nightmares you've been having and that's completely normal, buddy! Once you get back on the streets and into the swing of things, it'll be fine like always. You'll bounce right back. You love being a cop, Starsky. You're good at it!" _

_The tall blond stepped closer to his partner, feeling how tightly wound the brunet was. Hutch carefully reached out his hand to draw his partner in. "Starsky, don't make a hasty decision and ruin the best thing you've got going in your life . . ."_

"_Damn it, Hutch!" Starsky snapped, pushing the blond away, dark blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Don'chya get it? __**You're**__ the best thing I got goin' in my life. You think I like this job? You think I like seeing all the shit we see on the streets everyday? You think that just because my old man was a cop, that I want to be one too? You got me pegged all wrong, buddy!" the brunet snorted derisively. _

"_Starsky," Hutch began, only to have his friend's quiet words ring out softly in the stillness of the darkened room._

"_Just hear me out, Hutch," Starsky whispered. "When I was a kid, my whole life I'd only seen violence and pain -- from losin' my pop, to hangin' out on the streets, bein' forced t' leave New York, and then goin' to'Nam. When I became a cop, nuthin' changed. I saw the dirt and stink of the streets, the derelicts and the scums who I busted time and again and I could feel myself becomin' cynical and hard, ya know? Like a lot'a cops are. And then I met you, Hutch, a farm boy from Minnesota who soon became my partner and I watched ya. Saw how ya always reached out to those who were hurtin', givin' your last dollar to any bum who needed a cup of coffee. You reached out to everyone on the streets, no matter if they were prostitutes or lushes, no matter how dirty or drugged out they were; you gave of yourself, Hutch. And watchin' ya everyday made me proud that I was a cop. Made me proud to know that I could serve, that maybe I could somehow make a difference." Starsky released a ragged breath, the turbulent emotion in his eyes softened as he said, " It was you, Hutch. You made me want to make difference. You made me remember why I chose to be a cop. Don'chya get it? This whole time, you're the reason I drag my ass into work everyday, Hutch. You're the reason I've stayed in this job for as long as I have."_

_Stormy blue orbs flicked back and forth as Starsky desperately searched Hutch's face to see if his words were being understood. The brunet's voice was rough and broken as he whispered softly, "And you're the reason I'm leavin' too, 'cause you're not dyin' on my watch, Hutch, because there won't be a watch! I ain't stayin' on just to watch you die!"_

_Starsky frowned at his friend's silence and then took in a deep breath, continuing in a calmer voice. "Look Hutch, if we aren't on the streets anymore, then chances are we can grow old together and sit out on our rockers watchin' our grandkids playin'. Don'chya want that, Hutch? 'Cause I do! I want us to settle down, get married, have a house with a white picket fence, the whole happily ever after stuff, but we ain't gonna get that as long as we're cops."_

_The sensitive blond could almost visualize the picture perfect dream that Starsky painted with his words and his heart ached for the want of it, yet Hutch knew that his partner was deciding the outcome of his whole career based upon fear; that the brunet was acting on impulse, running scared from a possibility that might never happen. Yet, there was no talking about it with Starsky, not when he was being as stubborn as he was. Hutch sighed in frustration and tugged on the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. _

_Starsky continued, his voice growing stronger as he said, "I know what you're thinkin' . . . that' I'm bein' impulsive, but I'm not! When I get back to Bay City, I'm leavin' for good and you're comin' with me. I can't trust anyone else to watch your back, Hutch, so we'll do this together -- Butch and Sundance, remember? But this time, we're not gonna go out in a blaze of glory . . . we're just gonna go out and leave in one piece, do somethin' else with our lives, somethin' safe."_

_Hutch sighed softly, seeing the pain and fear in the familiar blue of his partner's searching eyes. No one could understand that fear better than Hutch, for he lived with that exact same fear on a daily basis. Hadn't he lived through Starsky being poisoned, and shot, and kidnapped and beaten by unstable cultists? Hadn't he been there the whole time to pick up the pieces while Starsky grieved over the loss of Terry, standing beside and supporting his dark haired friend as they drunkenly mulled over a career change with the Canadian football team before opening the gifts Terry gave to them?_

_They'd been through a lot over the years, and they'd done it together as a team, as brothers in arms, as family! And it was because of this shared history that Hutch needed to make sure that Starsky understood the ramifications of his rash decision. Hutch was Starsky's best friend and partner; it was his duty to help Starsky examine all sides of this complicated emotional prism so that if and when the time came to leave the force, they could do so without any regrets._

_But now was not that time. Starsky was being too stubborn to be rational, too fear-driven to listen to practical solutions, too angry to see a shrink and start over again._

_Hutch cleared his throat uncomfortably before he gently said, "Look, Starsk, maybe we need to step back from this before we make a decision, okay? We have the rest of the week and the whole way home to talk about it."_

_Earnest sapphire eyes dropped downward, as dark lashes swept low to cover the disappointment Starsky felt inside. The brunet sighed heavily, knowing that he still hadn't completely swayed his partner. Hutch could be just as stubborn and tenacious as he was._

_The blond bit his lower lip, knowing he had let his partner down. Dragging his hand through his hair and looking around the room, Hutch asked softly, "You still wanna leave today, even in the storm?" _

_At his partner's curt nod, the blond continued, "Alright then, if you wanna leave today we better get packing." A low rumble filled the silence of the room and at first Hutch thought it was the thunder. Pale blue eyes widened as he saw Starksy lay a hand over his grumbling gut. Hutch grinned at the suddenly blushing brunet. "Tell you what, if we start now, we can pull over at the grill to get some dinner before heading back to Bay City." _

"_Okay," Starsky agreed softly as his partner turned to look at the rumpled bed. Though he knew their "talk" was far from over, Starsky felt suddenly grateful that Hutch was never far from his side, especially during the whole Fitzgerald's case and the need to tell him that made him quietly call out to the handsome blond. _

"_Hutch?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Thanks."_

"_I'm not saying I'm quitting . . ."_

"_I know, but . . . jus' thanks!"_

_Starsky swallowed as he saw the blue of Hutch's eyes soften with the affection he held for his partner. _

"_You're welcome," Hutch said, " Now hurry up and strip those sheets."_

"Hutch? You ready?"

The quiet call of his name brought the blond back to the present. Hutch blinked as he took in the empty kitchen and living room of the little cabin. "You moved all the boxes?" he asked Starsky who leaned against one of the counters dripping rainwater onto the wooden floor of the kitchen.

"Yup, loaded 'em in the trunk. Been workin' hard while you were standin' there daydreamin', Blondie." A slow, lopsided grin spread over the brunet's face as Hutch suddenly blushed profusely.

"E-everything packed and ready to go then?" Hutch stammered, feeling like an idiot standing there in the middle of the room lost in thought, while his partner did all the work.

"Yeah, had to throw some of the boxes and our duffles in the back seat though," Starsky said.

"Okay, then," Hutch said with a sigh. "Guess we can head out . . ."

"Good, 'cause I'm starvin' so let's go already!" Starsky winked, lifting the collar to his jacket before running outside in the rain while the blond took one last look at their hideaway retreat with a feeling of regret before locking the door and following his partner to the car.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.

"Man, that was some great steak!" Starsky grinned, rubbing his now full stomach. "For a little hole-in-the-wall joint, they sure know how to grill steak the right way!" The pleased brunet lifted his mug of beer and tipped the rest of the brew down his throat. Starsky smacked his lips as he put the heavy mug down on the bar with a 'thunk', turning to look at the blond with a contented sigh.

Hutch snorted, wiping his mouth the corner of the paper napkin, his own plate empty as well. Packing everything up as quickly as they did had given both men a ravenous appetite. Hutch pulled out his wallet and frowned as he pulled out his last ten spot. "You got any cash on you, buddy? Need to pay for gas too, and this is my last ten dollars."

The curly haired cop yanked his wallet from the back pocket of his overly tight jeans. "Here, use whatever you want," Starsky said, waving the bartender down to order two more beers.

"Starsky," Hutch said drolly, lifting his eyes from the battered wallet. "You only have a five dollar bill!"

"Huh? Oh."

"That's it? Oh? And how were you planning on paying me back for last night's dinner, dummy?" Hutch grinned good-naturedly.

"Well, when I get back to Bay City I'll pay ya back," the brunet winked.

Hutch snorted, "Right! '_If_**,' **we get back to Bay City . . . low on gas, remember?" The blond was about to say more when a gruff voice behind him made Hutch turn around to see three hunters standing behind them.

"Well now, looky who we have here, boys. If'n it ain't Doc Ellen's friend. Thought you'd be long gone by now, boy."

Starsky frowned as he also turned, recognizing the drawl. The brunet sighed, "Whatta ya want, Jake? Need another lesson in manners?"

The bearded hunter turned to look at the clean shaven, flaxen haired cop who sat beside his darker counterpart. "Your friend here ain't very hospitable now, is he?" Jake sneered. "I'm surprised to see he even has friends outside the Doc."

"Oh, Starsky has a lot of friends," Hutch replied easily, kicking himself mentally for leaving his gun packed in his duffle bag, sensing the unrest and hostility in the hunter. "It's his awesome people skills that draw them in."

"Jake, why don't you take it outside," the barkeep said. "Don't want no brawls in here."

"Ain't gonna brawl with no one, Sam." Jake grinned. "Was just gonna challenge old curly-top here, to a game'a pool."

"Yeah?" Starsky replied, a spark of interest twinkling in his bright blue eyes.

"Starsk," Hutch whispered a warning.

"No, no, it's okay, Hutch." Starsky said hopping casually of the barstool. "Well just play a quick game of pool and we'll . . ."

"Play for two hundred bucks!" Jake Edwards interjected. "Winner take all."

"You're on!" Starsky said, beginning to follow the three hunters to the back of the room when Hutch latched onto his arm, stopping the brunet as he sauntered by.

"Are you crazy?" Hutch hissed. "Two hundred dollars? Starsk, you only have a five dollar bill!"

"I don't intend to lose, Blintz," Starsky said with a smirk.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, pal," Hutch reminded.

"Don't worry, Blondie, I'm gonna get that gas money you need," Starsky promised smugly. "Now go sit down and drink that beer I ordered ya." The handsome brunet winked with confidence and then turned to make his way over to where the pool table stood.

The blond heaved an exasperated sigh, worry and concern etching deep grooves onto his forehead. "Thanks," Hutch nodded, as the barkeep handed him a mug of beer. Whatever was up his partner's sleeve, the tired blond prayed it would work. It would be a long walk back to Bay City if not.

To be continued . . .


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

**A/N:** _Aloha Everyone . . . my apologies for the delay in posting this next chapter. Things have been really rough since school has started and I get home so late every night.__ I will be taking my students to camp next week, so I thought I better post this before I forget again. Enjoy . . ._

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

"Are you crazy?" Hutch hissed. "Two hundred dollars? Starsk, you only have a five dollar bill!"

"I don't intend to lose, Blintz," Starsky said with a smirk.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, pal," Hutch reminded.

"Don't worry, Blondie, I'm gonna get that gas money you need," Starsky promised smugly. "Now go sit down and drink that beer I ordered ya." The handsome brunet winked with confidence and then turned to make his way over to where the pool table stood.

The blond heaved an exasperated sigh, worry and concern etching deep grooves onto his forehead. "Thanks," Hutch nodded, as the barkeep handed him a mug of beer. Whatever was up his partner's sleeve, the tired blond prayed it would work. It would be a long walk back to Bay City if not.

**~Chapter Nine~**

"So I take it that you play a good game of pool?"

"Maybe. You play?"

"Some, but I . . ."

"You a gamblin' man? Wanna play a game of eight ball? "

"What are the stakes?"

"Me gettin' outta here now and you sending a glowin' report to Dobey and Internal Affairs."

"I see. And that's if you win, of course?"

"Yeah."

"And what if I win?"

"I'm here ain't I?"

(A quiet chuckle)

"I don't consider you being here my winnings, Dave, but I like your spirit! Perhaps one day I just might take you up on your offer to play a game of pool, but I think the stakes you're offering at this time might be a bit . . . unethical."

(Silence)

"Dave?"

"Yeah, whatever . . ."

(Drumming fingers on the desk)

So why don't you tell me what you think about Hutch's statement."

"What statement?"

"That the road to hell is paved with good intentions. What do you think that expression means?"

"How the hell should I know! Look, I'm sick'a all your questions, Doc. Let's cut to the chase . . . ya gonna let me get back on the force or what?"

(Silence)

"Hello? Ya even listenin' t'me?"

"Tell me about what happened when you played pool with those hunters . . ."

(Silence)

"I can sit here until you're ready. I get paid by the minute, Dave. Want that cup of tea or coffee now?"

(Silence)

"Dave?"

"Yeah, alright! Ya wanna know what happened? Ya got it! Okay? Ya got it!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-

"So, you wanna rack 'em up?" Starsky asked, "Or shall I? Wanna play a friendly game of eight ball? Or how 'bout some nine ball?"

"Jus' shut yer city slicker pie hole and put them purty balls in the triangle thingy!" Jake snapped, turning to glare at his son. "Johnny, go on and flip a coin t'see who's gonna break. I call heads!"

"Then I guess I'm tails, and I'm guessin' we're gonna play some eight ball," Starsky grinned, shaking his butt as he racked the balls and then turned to grab a cue stick. The brunet used the chalk cube, layering a thick coat of it on the tip of his stick.

"You ready, pa? Mister?" Johnny asked, flipping the coin in the air after both men nodded. The dark haired hunter caught the coin and slammed it down over his wrist. "It's tails!"

Starsky whooped with pleasure already feeling that "the win" was a sure thing. Johnny carefully lifted the rack as Starsky took position, using the white cue ball to crack dead center into the colorful racked balls, sending solids and stripes rolling all over the green felted tabletop. One of the stripe balls landed in the corner pocket. "Guess I'm stripes, just like my beautiful red and white baby back home!"

The dark haired cop grinned, shifting his eyes to connect with those of his partner who had silently moved in closer to the game; sitting alone on one of the round wooden tables that lined the entrance of the back room. Hutch winked, silently bolstering the brunet's confidence even more.

"Well, go on. We don't have all day with ya just standin' there gawking at yer blond boyfriend!" Jake snapped, "What's with you two boys anyway? You boys queer or somethin'?"

Starsky grinned, "Ya know what? Before we go on any further, my friend and I wanna see the cash first. Need'ta see with our own eyes if you down-home boys really have that kind of money on ya. Two hundred dollars is a lot of dough t'be playin' with."

"Ya sayin' I'm a liar, boy?"

"I'm sayin' I wanna see the greens before the game goes any further." Starsky reiterated calmly, feeling the sudden tension from the hunters. "No money . . . no game."

"How much y'gots on ya, Bobby?" Jake snarled, snapping his fingers at his friend who dug out his worn wallet, drawing out 2 twenties, a fifty dollar bill, and three five's. "I got a hundred five on me, Jake. M'wife's gonna skin me alive if you lose this. We needed t'fix the washer and the heater with this hea money."

"Shut yer whinin', Bobby. I ain't meanin' t'lose to this purty boy." Jake sneered as he, snatched the bills from the red-headed hunter. "Johnny, how much ya gots on ya?"

"Just thirty one dollars 's all, pa." Johnny said, fishing out the greenbacks and giving it to his father without hesitation, a worried look deepening the color of his hazel eyes. "'Tween me and Bobby, that's only a hundred and thirty-six dollars."

"Ya need to come up with sixty four dollars, Jake," Starsky grinned, as the older hunter frowned, looking perplexed as he raised his eyes to the ceiling to do the mental math.

Jake fished out his wallet, pulling out the loose bills from its worn pocket. "Gots here only twenty-four bucks, dammit!" the hunter snapped, slamming his dollars on the face of the table. "Shit!" Jake swore, glaring at Bobby. "I thought you said you had a pocketful of money, nearly two hundred bucks on ya?"

"Well I was roundin' t'the nearest two." Bobby replied stupidly, his face reddening with anger as Jake swore at him again.

"Well, that makes a hundred and sixty dollars between the three of ya," Starsky grinned, "At least it's over half. I'm still in, if you are." The dark haired cop plucked the collected bills from the hunter's hand and gave them to the barkeep who had come into the back room a while ago to watch the game with interest. "Joe here, is gonna hold the money for us while we play. Keep things fair and all." The brunet winked at the the bartender who nodded solemnly and grabbed the loose bills, expertly organizing the dollars into neat stacks by the order of their worth.

"Alright, let's get the game rollin' then," Jack snapped, "Yer stripes and I'm solids, so hurry the fuck up."

Starsky grinned as he perused the setup on the table, glad the ignorant backwoodsmen didn't ask to see his cash up front. Smirking at the angry hunter, the curly haired cop sauntered around the pool table and called his shot, "Eleven ball in the corner pocket."

Starsky's eyes shifted to his partner's once more, smiling as he saw Hutch nod encouragingly. Flexing his shoulders and cracking his neck, Starsky leaned over his cue stick and took aim; watching as the cue ball rolled effortlessly across the felted surface to sink the striped ball into the corner pocket.

Joe whistled and chuckled as he waved the money in the air. "Looks like yer old lady's gonna skin ya alive, Bobby!"

"Shut yer trap, Joe," Bobby growled. "Jake's gonna whoop this city slicker's ass."

"Nine ball in the side pocket," Starsky called out, the yellow striped ball easily sinking into the middle pocket to the snickering glee of the bartender.

"Fuck!" Bobby and Jake swore together, both hunters moodily watched as the brunet maneuvered expertly around the table.

"Twelve ball in the corner," Starsky said, angling his stick so that the cue ball pocketed the purple striped ball.

"You hustlin' me, boy?" Jake accused, angrily tipping back his head to swallow down the contents of his mug, slamming the empty glass down hard upon the edge of the pool table.

"Watch the merchandize, Jake," Joe warned gruffly, "Or you're gonna be owing me more than just two hundred dollars!"

"Shouldn't drink so much, Jake," Starsky advised with a wink, "It fucks up your coordination." The brunet grinned and sashayed around the table attempting to do a difficult bank shot, sinking the blue striped ten-ball into the said side pocket.

The game continued with Starsky sinking another ball in before missing his last shot. The hunters hooted as Jake finally got a turn at the stick. The older man walked around the table choosing a difficult shot to impress his opponent. The solid green ball stood about a foot away from remaining striped ball near the side pocket.

"Ya sure you wanna go for that one?" Starsky asked, dark blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "I mean, it's a difficult shot. Ya might miss."

"Shut yer face, boy," Jake snarled, "Don't try t'jinx me. Yer lookin' at a legend when it comes to the game of pool, ain't he boys?"

Bobby nodded nervously, wringing his hands together as he watched his friend lean over and angle his cue stick, aiming at the green six-ball.

Everyone held their breath as the cue ball rolled across the table, sinking both the solid and the striped ball into the side pocket.

"Fuck, Goddammit!" Jake yelled, slamming his stick down upon the pool table.

"Shit, Jake," Bobby whined, "Y'done helped the boy t'get his last ball in!"

"Yessiree, he sure did!" Starsky chuckled, shaking his bottom as he did a little jig around the table. Lining his cue stick up, the skillful brunet easily sunk the black eight ball into the side pocket after he called out the shot, to the groaning and whining of the hunters.

"Thanks, Joe." Starsky chuckled, as he snatched the money out of the bartender's hand. "Boys, it's been a pleasure doin' business with ya'll," the brunet gloated as he sauntered by the bearded men, leaving them red-faced and glaring.

Hutch stood with a smile as his partner neared him, but the smile soon turned to an angry glare as he saw Jake grab Starsky from behind and slam the brunet hard against the wooden wall. "Starsky!" the blond called out, as he ran to the back of the room to render aid to his friend who was now surrounded by the burly hunters.

The curly haired cop grunted as his chest connected to the unforgiving wall, the breath expelling from his lungs in an audible whoosh. "You little shit," Jake snarled into his ear, "Y'aint gettin' our money, y'hear me? Y' hustled us and we ain't lettin' ya leave here in one piece." The older man whipped the brunet around and brutally kneed Starsky in the stomach then shoved the winded cop against the wall once more.

The brunet grunted in pain, his abdominal muscles screaming out at the abuse it just took. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Starsky ducked at the last minute as Jake drew his fist back to connect with the solid wood of the wall behind him.

As Jake clenched his bleeding hand and howled in pain, Bobby grabbed Starsky before he could get away; the redhead hunter using his weight to push the smaller man to the floor, only to feel himself being lifted forcefully from behind by the tall blond who swung his large fist, connecting with Bobby's bearded jaw.

A loud booming sound stilled the ruckus and all eyes turned to Joe who held a smoking shotgun pointed to the ceiling. "That's enough, all of ya!" The bartender nodded to the hunters, "Now I watched the game, and Curly over there won the it fair and square, Jake."

Joe looked over and watched as the tall blond helped his dark haired partner to his feet. "Now you boys, take your money and get the hell out."

"Thanks Joe," Hutch said, as he and Starsky made their way to the front door of the establishment. Both detectives stopped dead in their tracks and turned to look over their shoulders as they heard a familiar 'click'.

Joe cocked the shotgun and pointed it at the older hunter who attempted to move towards the retreating duo. "Nope, ain't gonna let ya make a bigger fool of yerself than ya already have, Jake. Now I told those boys they can leave here, but yer gonna have t'stay for a spell. Sit yer asses down at the bar and I'll get some beer for ya, on the house." The bartender turned his gaze back the light haired cop, "And you, y'bes get yer friend outta here and do it fast!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"You okay?" Hutch asked, turning to eye his partner who rubbed his tender middle.

"Yup, 'm fine!" Starsky smirked, raising the handful of bills to his nose, taking in a deep whiff of the green-papered currency. "And do you know why? Because I love the smell of money!" the brunet said excitedly. "Man, did you see me back there, Hutch? I smoked that idiot!"

"Yeah, and you nearly got yourself killed in the process." Hutch said, his eyes squinting in the dark; the headlights of the LTD lighting the slippery winding roads as the old windshield wipers strained to clear away the heavy amounts of water that continued to steadily fall against the glass.

"Not even! I had them under my control the whole time!" the brunet bragged. "And I got your gas money to boot and then some, so quit your worryin', Hutchinson!" Starsky wagged his brows and fanned the dollars at his blond counterpart who snorted softly in the dark.

"Well, you're lucky old Joe had a shotgun behind the bar," Hutch said, his pale blue eyes lifting to look in the rear view mirror at the twin pinpoints of lights a mile or so behind him. "Anyway, it'll be good to get home and out of this rain."

"Yeah," Starsky sighed as he pulled the ends of his jacket together to ward off the chill of the car's interior. "Turn on the heater, would'ya? I'm freezin' my ass off in here."

Hutch leaned over and obliged his partner's request, straightening to peer into the rear view mirror once more, to check on the other car's progress. Grooves of concern marred the blond's forehead as the distant lights drew ever nearer.

Ever perceptive of his partner's every nuance, Starsky eyed his blond counterpart in the dark. "What?" The brunet turned to look over his shoulder at the car that speeded up behind them. "We got company?"

"Looks like it." Hutch mumbled, his foot pressing on the gas pedal as he spoke, the old LTD bitched loudly as it begrudgingly picked up speed.

"Maybe it's just another traveler wanting to get home real fast." Starsky said hopefully, sitting up straighter as he turned to the front, his senses now on high alert.

"Or some pissed off hunters wanting to get their money back." Hutch replied drolly. The blond shifted his eyes once more to the mirror, able now to discern the make of the car behind them. The Scout continued to pick up speed, cutting the distance between the two cars in half.

"Hutch!" Starsky called out as the LTD swerved on the slippery surface. "Watch the damn road!"

"Shit!" Hutch swore softly under his breath as he righted his car only to have the wheel slip again from his hands with the sudden jarring bump they received from the Scout that had swiftly crept up behind them.

The LTD swerved once more and Hutch fought for control of the wheel, speeding up as he did so to avoid another jarring blow from vehicle bearing down on them. "What are you doing?" the blond snapped, ducking his head to avoid a foot in his face as his partner struggled to crawl over the front seat.

"Gettin' your gun," Starsky shouted back, unzipping Hutch's duffle bag to draw out the large cannon. The brunet could see Jake and the others through the front windshield of their car; the Scout was that close now. Another jarring jolt had the brunet violently slamming his right shoulder and head into the side door and window, the glass webbing in cracks with the brutal impact.

"You okay back there?" Hutch called out, worry and concern adding a harsh sharpness to his otherwise soft and gentle voice.

Starsky winced, lifting his hand to the side of his head where a trickle of warmth ran down his temple. The brunet blinked back the black spots that swam before his eyes, clearing his throat before he said, "Yeah, jus' . . . jus' keep drivin'."

"What are you planning to do?" Hutch questioned, pale blue eyes never leaving the winding road ahead as he sped up once more to avoid another collision with the Scout that tailed his ass.

"M-Maybe I can take out one of the tires," Starsky said, blinking back the dizziness he felt as he rested his arms along the ridge of the backseat and took aim at the vehicle that followed closely behind them.

"Are you crazy? Get back in the front and put on your damn seat belt!" Hutch ordered, his voice rising with the panic he felt as he glanced in the rearview mirror once more, Seeing the larger vehicle bearing down once more upon them made the hands of the blond slippery with sweat. "Starsky!"

The sudden lurch of impact made Starsky lose hold of the gun and slam headfirst once more to the floor of the car as the LTD spun crazily over the slippery surface of the wet road. Though Hutch fought valiantly for the wheel, the LTD made a sickening sound as crunching metal reached the ears of its occupants; the vehicle's already battered body ripping violently and crashing through the guardrails, tumbling head over heels to the shallow ravine below where it lay right side up in the dark of the night, still and broken, like a lifeless doll that a thoughtless child had carelessly forgotten or thrown away.

**To Be Contined . . .**

*Please excuse any grammatical mistakes or typos . . . this chapter hasn't been beta'ed except for a quick read through by me . . . thanks for being understanding. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

**A/N:** _Aloha Everyone . . . I am still alive and have survived camp with only minor aches and pains. Thank God I had surgery only 3 months ago and was exempt of climbing the_

_Alpine Tower and rappelling down from the mountainside. Don't think I would have made it if I had to do that LOL. Here is the next chapter . . . enjoy!_

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

"M-Maybe I can take out one of the tires," Starsky said, blinking back the dizziness he felt as he rested his arms along the ridge of the backseat and took aim at the vehicle that followed closely behind them.

"Are you crazy? Get back in the front and put on your damn seat belt!" Hutch ordered, his voice rising with the panic he felt as he glanced in the rearview mirror once more, Seeing the larger vehicle bearing down once more upon them made the hands of the blond slippery with sweat. "Starsky!"

The sudden lurch of impact made Starsky lose hold of the gun and slam headfirst once more to the floor of the car as the LTD spun crazily over the slippery surface of the wet road. Though Hutch fought valiantly for the wheel, the LTD made a sickening sound as crunching metal reached the ears of its occupants; the vehicle's already battered body ripping violently and crashing through the guardrails, tumbling head over heels to the shallow ravine below where it lay right side up in the dark of the night, still and broken, like a lifeless doll that a thoughtless child had carelessly forgotten or thrown away.

**~Chapter Ten~**

"S-Starsky?"

Hutch stifled a groan and carefully lifted his head from the steering column, shaking off the disorientation he felt as he suddenly became aware of the silence that enshrouded the car's interior. Adrenaline pumped through his system as thoughts of his partner's well-being raced through his mind. "Starsk?"

The blond gingerly moved his body, suddenly aware of his own aches and pains, yet thoughts of an injured and broken Starsky forced Hutch to continue his search despite his protesting muscles. "Starsky?"

A pitiful groan from the back of the car made Hutch sigh with relief as the blond shoved his shoulder against his door, forcing it open. The flaxen haired cop quickly reached for the handle to the back door of the LTD and wrenched it open, the hinges squeaking loudly and obscenely in the quiet darkness of the forest.

"Starsky?" Hutch whispered urgently, seeing the crumpled form of his partner on the floor of the car. The blond reached in and collected his battered friend, wincing in sympathy as Starsky groaned softly. As gently as he could, Hutch heaved the brunet up by grabbing handfuls of his jacket; lifting the solidly built, dark haired cop to ease him onto the back seat of the car.

"Take it easy, buddy," Hutch soothed, gently turning his partner's face to examine the bleeding gash on Starsky's temple. In the dark, it was hard to see if the brunet's pupils were equal and reactive and Hutch hoped that his partner was not suffering from a concussion. "Anything broken? Where do you hurt? Huh?" Hutch asked softly, running his hands gently along Starsky's arms and ribs, checking to see if there were any unseen damages that he needed to be aware of.

"H-Horn."

"What?" Hutch frowned at the breathy response, lifting his eyes up the slope to the road from where they had crashed through the guardrails. He could see the dark outline of the Scout through the broken and ripped metal overhead, sitting still on the edge, its occupant's unseen for now.

"F-Fixed it," Starsky gasped as he shook his head, blinking rapidly to shake the fuzziness from his vision. The dark haired detective groaned once more, belatedly realizing that shaking his head was not a good idea at this time. "Your d-damn horn . . ."

Hutch snorted and then chuckled as his partner's mumblings began to make sense. It would be Starsky to point out the fact that the blaring horn that usually accompanied the opening of the driver's side of the door was now silent. "Yeah, got it, buddy. Lucky me! Horn's fixed now, but the rest of the car has gone to hell."

Hutch quickly looked around and reached over to grab his gun that lay on the floor, shoving the heavy weapon into the back of his waistband. Grabbing a white tee shirt from his opened duffle, Hutch gently pressed the soft fabric against the bleeding gash on the side of his partner's head.

"Easy, babe," Hutch whispered as the shivering brunet hissed at the sudden pressure. "We gotta get you outta of here."

"'s cold," Starsky slurred, his body shaking as the wind swept raindrops into the open doorway of the car.

"I know, buddy," Hutch consoled softly, turning his back to the door to shield his partner as best he could from the elements. "But our 'friends' are still out there, maybe making their way down as we speak."

"Yeah?" Starsky huffed out, swallowing down the sudden nausea that rose from his gut. "Y-you mean I gotta get wet?"

Hutch snorted, his pale blue eyes softening with fondness for the dazed brunet. "Yeah, I know you hate water, pal, but yeah, you gotta take a bath sometime."

"F-Funny, Hutchinson. R-real funny."

Hutch smiled and patted his friend on the thigh before leaning over to right a medium sized cardboard box that fell from the impact, digging around inside until his hand found the handle of the small first aid kit they'd pack just that afternoon. "Sorry, Starsk," Hutch apologized as he leaned over the brunet once more, jostling his partner in the process, as he dug out the dirty sheets and a blanket from the same box. Hutch covered his shivering partner with the blanket and then began to quickly strip the sheets into long bandages. The sudden shout from above made the blond suddenly stop his ministrations.

"Hey, assholes!" Jake's abrasive voice could be heard from the top of the slope. "You stole our money and we ain't lettin' ya go. Ya hear me, boy?"

"Terrific" Starsky mumbled; his head lolled to one side. Breathing heavily to quell the nausea in his gut, Starsky winced in pain, his hand reaching up to gingerly touch the deep cut on his temple. The brunet looked dazedly at his fingers now covered with blood.

"How you doing?" Hutch asked as he eyed his partner with concern. Shoving the long strips of cloth into the pockets of his jeans, Hutch quietly asked, "You ready to get wet?" The tall blond barely had time to register his partner's quiet snort before the loud bark from a firing rifle was heard.

"Son of a bitch!" Hutch hissed, ducking and dragging Starsky under him as the back window of the LTD exploded in a shower of glass that sprayed outward, covering the back of the blond. Lifting his upper body, Hutch checked on his partner. At this close range, Hutch could now see that Starsky's pupils were not equal or reactive.

_Concussed. Shit!_

"Ya think I'm jokin' assholes? I might not be a pool playin' hustler, but I'm a goddamn good hunter and I'm comin' for ya!"

"Listen," Hutch shouted, knowing his partner winced in pain at the blaring anger in his voice. "You let us go, and we'll give you back the money . . ."

"Shut the fuck up!" Jake snapped. "Too late for that! I ain't in the frame of mind fer talkin'. You boys are dead meat once I get my hands on ya!" Another fired bullet pinged against the bumper of the LTD, forcing Hutch to duck once more.

"He . . . He's crazy," Starsky mumbled. "Might've killed s-someone before . . ."

"C'mon, Starsky," Hutch whispered urgently, helping his partner into a sitting position as he whipped off the blanket from the brunet's shivering shoulders. Zipping his own jacket first, and then shoving the blanket inside, Hutch then zipped up Starsky's jacket and grabbed the small first aid kit.

"Hang on, buddy, I got you," Hutch said as he gently heaved his partner up and out into the cold blast of rain that fell in torrents from the dark sky overhead, hurting inside as he heard Starsky's soft groan of pain. "Move your legs, Starsk, we gotta make it out of here." Hutch blinked the rainwater from his eyes, barely discerning the three hunters, rifles held high in their arms as they made their way down the slippery slope from the road above.

The familiar sound of gunfire made Hutch prod his partner into moving even faster, half pushing, half dragging the brunet, as they made their way quickly from the car.

"Hu- Hutch . . .wha's happenin' . . ." the curly haired cop slurred, dark blue eyes confused and unevenly dilated. It was hard to concentrate, hard to keep moving when all he wanted to do was to throw up. Starsky blinked back the black dots that danced around the edges of his peripheral vision and swallowed down waves of nausea that wanted to spew forth.

"They're shooting at us," Hutch gasped, trying to encourage his partner to stay low. "We gotta get away from the car in case those idiots accidentally shoot the gas tank."

Bullets pinged overhead as they ran through the rain as fast as Starsky could move. The brunet stumbled in the dark, his balanced compromised and Hutch quickly grasped his partner by his upper right arm, dragging Starsky quickly to his feet.

Starsky gagged, doubling over, his left hand clutching his abdomen, "Hu- Hu . . ."

"I know, I know, Starsk," Hutch said, ducking as another bullet whizzed by, not allowing his nauseated partner to stop, "But we gotta keep moving," It killed Hutch, that he couldn't give reprieve to his hurting friend and the frustration he felt ignited the anger growing within.

They were nearing the edge of the clearing, Hutch, hoping to get into the forest where the dark foliage would provide them some shelter and a possible hiding place from the gun- happy hunters; when Starsky jolted forward, his legs giving out as he fell face first into the wet grass.

A white, hot fire erupted in the back of the brunet, near his left shoulder, dropping him to the ground like a ton of bricks. Fighting the urge to pass out, Starsky bit back the cry of pain as the bullet seared into his flesh, grunting softly as Hutch turned him over.

'_He's hit. Oh, God! Starsky's hit.'_

"Fuck!" Hutch swore, hostile rage reddening his face like the blood that bloomed and stained the back of Starsky's white jacket. He would kill those sons of bitches if it were the last thing he'd do.

"Hu. . . Hutch. . ." Starsky panted, closing his eyes against the pain that tore through his back, stealing his breath away. Long dark lashes spiked and wet, blinked open against the rain that fell onto the brunet's pale and clammy face.

"I'm here, buddy. Right here," Hutch whispered, stooping to help his partner up. All he wanted to do was to soothe and comfort his hurting partner, but Hutch knew now was not the time, nor the place. Hardening his soft heart with the rage he felt against the redneck hunters who even now chased them through the dark of the forest, Hutch bit his lower lip and forced his wounded partner to get up.

Starsky gasped as Hutch heaved him up by grabbing onto his rain soaked jacket, unable to hold back his cry of pain as his shoulder was jarred in the process. Everything was blurring, his vision whiting out, but Starsky blinked the darkness back as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. His mind cried out as loudly as the pain that stabbed repeatedly into his back . . .

_'Hutch was in trouble, he couldn't pass out, not right now . . .'_

"That's it, Starsk," Hutch encouraged, the sound of his partner crying out in pain nearly did him in, but the blond refused to let his emotions paralyze him. Starsky needed him to be strong, needed him to get them out of this fucked up mess. The sound of bullets whizzing overhead made the blond duck and push his partner to stay low as they finally stumbled into the cover of the forest.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Breathing hard, Jake stopped at the car. "Johnny, search the vehicle and see if our money's there."

"I can't believe you shot at them, Jake." Bobby snapped. "Are you crazy? Those are people you're shootin' at, not deer!"

"They're more than just people," Johnny said, emerging from the backseat of the LTD. "They're cops." The dark haired hunter opened his fist to reveal Hutch's badge. "Found this in that duffle on the backseat." Johnny whispered.

"Goddammit, Jake!" Bobby whined. "You shot at some cops!" The redheaded hunter angrily turned to sit behind the wheel of the car, leaning over to open the glove compartment, rolling his eyes in irritation as Jake spoke up.

"Yeah, and I hit one too, from the sound of it," Jake smirked. "They'll be easy to hunt now with one of 'em bleedin' like a stuck pig." The older hunter took the shiny badge from the palm of his son's hand.

"So purty and shiny," Jake murmured as he peered closely at the inscription on the shield. "BCPD. Huh! Wondah where that is."

Bobby sifted through the papers he pulled from the glove compartment. "Bay City. Those boys are from the Bay City Police Department. Fuck!" The redheaded hunter's eyes widened as he spied the radio. "Goddammit Jake, they even gots one of them fancy radios in this hea car. What the hell did we do?"

"I think we should just use that radio to call for help, pa." Johnny said softly, "We just wanted our money back 's all. Maybe we can radio in for an ambulance or somethin' and hopefully it will help us when . . ."

"Shut the hell up, boy," Jake snapped, rubbing his hand over his rain soaked face. "Jus' lemme think for a minute."

"What's there to think about? They're cops, Jake!"

"And we're hunters!" Jake growled. "We know this place inside and out. We can hunt them down, get our money, and get rid of their bodies as easy as this," Jake snapped his fingers."

"What the hell are ya talkin' about?" Bobby questioned, frowning his displeasure and confusion.

Jake continued, ignoring the red haired hunter all together. "Ain't no one gonna know about what we did. Hell, it's rainin' cats and dogs. Ain't no one gonna be out and about to witness us blowin' them away. We'll jus' bury 'em or leave 'em up in the hills. Soon the snows will come and the hungry animals will do the rest. Ain't nuthin' t'worry 'bout 't all!"

"Yer fuckin' crazy, old man!" Bobby hissed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I ain't gonna hunt no one. I thought we were jus' gonna scare those boys, not kill 'em."

"You want yer money back, don'chya? Yer wife's gonna kick yer ass fer sure when she finds out she can't fix her washer."

"Yeah, but my wife wouldn't want me to commit murder fer it." Bobby argued. "And she definitely wouldn't want me t'be locked up like some goddamn criminal! I'm outta this one, Jake. I ain't killin' no cops tonight." The redheaded hunter turned to walk away, not relishing the climb he'd have to make to get back to the roadside above when he suddenly stopped; his back ramrod stiff as he heard the soft, 'click'.

"I can't let you leave, Bobby." Jake warned; the tip of his rifle trained on his friend's midsection as the younger hunter turned. "We're in this together, all of us." Jake continued, eyeing both companions narrowly. "And I'm gonna shoot anyone who thinks they're gonna ditch me. Y'hear?"

At the stilted nods from the two men, Jake smiled widely. "There now, glad that's all settled with." The older hunter squinted and shook the rainwater from his hair and beard. "Johnny use the butt of yer rifle to bash that radio in, and Bobby, climb up to the Scout to get more bullets for our hunt. This rain ain't gonna last forever and we already wounded one of them. I think if we play our cards right, we'll be home snug in our warm beds in no time. Now move your asses so we can start our fun!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Take it easy, Starsk," Hutch whispered, as he eased the trembling brunet against the stony wall of the cave they stumbled upon. Though it provided little warmth, the rocky structure gave them shelter from the storm outside and allowed them a dry place to rest while Hutch checked out his partner's wound. As it was, Starsky had vomited twice as they ran through the wet and slippery forest and Hutch thanked the Powers that Be for allowing them this little reprieve from the raging elements outside. "How you holding up, pal?" the blond asked gently, light blue eyes already searching out the area to the back of Starksy's shoulder.

"Oh. 'm fine." Starsky mumbled, his voice ragged and weary. "Jus' . . . jus' gimme a minute, huh?"

"Sure," Hutch smiled reassuringly, already unzipping his friend's soggy jacket as he helped Starsky remove the article of clothing, leaving his left shoulder and arm for last. The handsome blond noted his partner's clenched jaw and the pale and clammy countenance of the brunet's face as he gently slid Starsky's wounded shoulder from the sleeve of the windbreaker.

Starsky closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to shield his overly worried partner from the intensity of the pain he was in. His shoulder throbbed, blood pumping out of the hole in his back with every beat of his heart. It was odd how his back burned while at the same time a cold and unrelenting numbness was already spreading -- running down his left arm to his fingers which Starsky tried hard to fist. Unable to squeeze his uncooperative digits together, the winded brunet suddenly gave up trying and relaxed his hand.

"The pain bad?"

Shaking his head to say no, Starsky remained silent, biting back the groan that wanted to escape as Hutch cut away his wet shirt from his shivering body, leaning in closer to peer at the small ragged hole that pierced his partner's upper back near his left shoulder. The point of entry continued to seep blood at an alarming rate and no exit wound could be found anywhere.

Starsky gritted his teeth against the excruciating pain. Although he knew Hutch was trying to be gentle, the jarring motion caused white heat to explode in his back, radiating down his arm and up the conduit to his brain.

"How d-does it look?" Starsky huffed out; his body stiffening in reaction to Hutch's prodding. The brunet decided it was better to force himself to speak instead of chancing an undignified scream to escape his lips.

"Well, it's still bleeding." Hutch replied softly, concern darkening the color of his eyes as he leaned back to unzip his own jacket, pulling the damp blanket from within. "That ain't too good, Starsk."

The handsome blond frowned, unable to keep the worry from creeping into his voice. Hutch knew he had practically carried and sometimes dragged his wounded partner all over the forest as they hurriedly searched for shelter from the storm, stealthily trying to avoid the hunters who they knew were after them. It sickened Hutch to know that he could have inadvertently caused more damage to his partner by forcing Starsky to move with a bullet lodged in his back, but circumstances being that they were, Hutch knew he had had no choice in the matter.

"T-tell me about it," Starsky stammered, trying to control the shaking of his body, feeling so weary and cold and miserable inside until Hutch leaned over him once again, draping the semi-damp blanket diagonally across his chest, tucking one of the ends behind his right shoulder, leaving his left side exposed.

"I know your cold, buddy," Hutch whispered compassionately. "Wish I had something better than just this, but at least it isn't as wet as your jacket. Let me take a look at your wound, and then if you're still cold, maybe I can find something to build a small fire with."

Starsky nodded, "'Kay, th-thanks Hutch." The exhausted brunet lifted his lips in a weak smile as he watched the blond pull out the strips of torn sheet material from his pocket. "Ya know," Starsky murmured, sweat beading his forehead, "With those golden locks of yours, ya could'a . . . ya could'a been Florence Nightingale."

"Yeah?" Hutch grinned, easing his friend to turn his left side from the wall so that he could access the back of Starsky's shoulder. The blond worried his lip as he carefully wiped away the blood from the wound with Starsky's wet shirt. Although it wasn't the most sanitary cloth he had, it was all he had.

The blond leaned over and dragged the small first aid kit over to his side. Using the end of the blanket, Hutch layered it as best he could and said, "Hang on, pal. This is gonna hurt some."

Starsky grunted as he bit back the cry of pain that longed to escape, feeling the sudden burning pressure Hutch was applying to the back of his shoulder as the blond tried to stem the flow of blood. The brunet could feel the tension radiating from his overly taxed body, feeling the sweat dripping down the sides of his face as he breathed in ragged gasps of air through his nose.

Hutch could feel the sudden tension in his partner's body as Starsky endured the pressure he was placing on the bleeding wound. He knew it hurt and it sickened the sensitive blond to be causing even more pain to his dark haired counterpart, but Starsky was bleeding out and it needed to be stopped.

"Hutch . . ."

The whispered name was spoken so softly, Hutch almost thought he'd imagined it. The blond leaned over his partner's shoulder and winced as he saw the struggle on his partner's face. The brunet sat with his eyes clenched tight, breathing heavily through his mouth and nose to contain the pain within. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Hutch gently replied, "Yeah, buddy, right here."

"I-I was wrong . . ."

"Wrong? About what, Starsk." Hutch asked absently, his mind solely concentrating on stemming the blood that even now continued to ceaselessly trickle from the wound.

"About c-callin' you Florence Nigh . . ." Starsky gasped, running out of air to finish the sentence he was trying to say. The brunet opened his eyes, sapphire pupils still unequal, reminding Hutch that he needed to tend to his partner's head as soon he stopped the bleeding.

"Florence Nightingale?" Hutch gently finished for him. "Why do you think you were wrong? I mean, I have a great bedside manner," Hutch smiled. He knew his partner needed to talk to get his mind off the pain and if it helped Starsky, Hutch would force himself to talk forever if need be.

"T-too big . . ."

Hutch snorted. "I'm too tall to be Florence, huh?"

"No," Starsky gasped. "Your hands. Too big . . . and g-gorilla-like . . . to be a lady's."

Starsky smiled weakly as he heard his partner chuckle behind him. It was good to hear Hutch laugh in the midst of everything they were going through. The dark haired cop closed his eyes once more, feeling so tired, wanting to sleep away the pain as he leaned into his partner's strong arms, feeling Hutch shift behind him to take his weight.

Hutch frowned as he applied even more pressure, feeling sick inside as he heard the weak groan from his partner. He could feel his friend's life-blood still seeping through his fingers, saturating the layers of the woolen blanket pressing firmly against the wound. Hutch could feel the trembling of his partner's body beneath his fingers, could feel the feverish warmth that was spreading throughout Starsky body, could hear the ragged and uneven breathing from his partner's lips.

The handsome blond closed his eyes, hiding the worry he felt inside. He knew Starsky had a concussion, and though he wished he could allow the brunet to sleep, he knew it was unwise to do so. His partner was still bleeding out, getting weaker by the minute. Knowing that a bullet was still lodged somewhere in Starsky's back filled Hutch's mind with worries of infection, fever, and blood loss. The distraught cop knew he didn't have the adequate supplies and medicine to treat his partner and that Starsky needed to be in a hospital and he needed to be there now! Adding to this stress, Hutch knew they were also being hunted right at this moment and that they were sitting ducks if they stayed in this cave much longer.

Hutch sighed in frustration and despair, feeling the warmth of his partner's body as Starsky wearily sagged into his embrace. The handsome blond closed his eyes and lowered his flaxen colored head until it rested upon soft dark curls. _'If he didn't get help soon, Starsky might never make it see the sun rise.__'_ And that frightening thought filled the already worried cop with crippling fear.

**To Be Contined . . .**

*Though I've read it through, please ignore any grammatical mistakes or typos I may have missed. I really need to get new glasses . . my poor eyes are so bad! 


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

**A/N:** _Aloha Everyone . . . It is the end of the first quarter and I finally get a week to do grades for report cards. I've also used this time to write and post . . . enjoy!_

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

The handsome blond closed his eyes, hiding the worry he felt inside. He knew Starsky had a concussion, and though he wished he could allow the brunet to sleep, he knew it was unwise to do so. His partner was still bleeding out, getting weaker by the minute. Knowing that a bullet was still lodged somewhere in Starsky's back filled Hutch's mind with worries of infection, fever, and blood loss. The distraught cop knew he didn't have the adequate supplies and medicine to treat his partner and that Starsky needed to be in a hospital and he needed to be there now! Adding to this stress, Hutch knew they were also being hunted right at this moment and that they were sitting ducks if they stayed in this cave much longer.

Hutch sighed in frustration and despair, feeling the warmth of his partner's body as Starsky wearily sagged into his embrace. The handsome blond closed his eyes and lowered his flaxen colored head until it rested upon soft dark curls. _'If he didn't get help soon, Starsky might never make it see the sun rise.__'_ And that frightening thought filled the already worried cop with crippling fear.

**~Chapter Eleven~**

"It's no wonder you've been having nightmares; that you worry over your partner's safety as well as your own. I can't imagine being hunted down like that."

(Silence)

"You know, feelings of fear are nothing to be ashamed of, Dave, especially because of the nature of your job."

(Silence)

"You and Hutch put your lives on the line everyday, the minute you leave your house, or your car, or your precinct. It seems things happen wherever you boys go, even if it's just going away for a weeklong vacation. It's no wonder that you worry about your partner's well-being."

(Silence)

"I'm sure if I talk to Hutch, he would certainly share similar concerns about you . . ."

"Ya think? Look, Doc, why don't ya tell me somethin' that I don't know. Hutch and me, we go way back. We care about what happens to each other, so it shouldn't surprise you that I ain't the only one with vivid nightmares."

"No, it doesn't surprise me. Not at all."

(An exasperated huff. Dark blue eyes roll to the ceiling in irritation)

"Has Hutch ever shared any of his nightmares with you?"

"Whadd'ya think? We're partners . . ."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The sharp blow to his ribs had Hutch gritting his teeth against the pain, his swollen eyes shifting desperately to find his partner pinned against the dirty wall of the alley, the gangland members taking turns at using the brunet for a punching bag.

"S-Starsk," Hutch gasped, as he was dragged up to his knees by the hand that brutally fisted in his hair. The blond watched in horror as two burly men pushed a bruised and battered Starsky to his knees, grabbing the brunet by his curly locks to lift his bowed head.

Stormy blue eyes filled with pain and righteous anger connected to glittering silver orbs that immediately softened to the familiar color of a cornfield sky. The hard glint in the cobalt-colored gaze relented and turned to a muted shade of blue with a hint of lavendar mixed in, as the brunet's eyes reflected the fondness he felt for Hutch. The sudden softness in Starsky's eyes changed once more and the intense look seared a flame of anger, fear and pain into Hutch's heart as he memorized his best friend's boyishly handsome face, bleeding and bruised right now, but always so very loved.

"Hands on your head, you fuckin' pig!" A gun was shoved in the back of Starsky's skull, the brunet wincing as he raised his palms and pressed them to the side of his head.

'God, Hutch! I'm sorry'

Hutch swallowed, the unspoken thoughts of his longtime partner were so evident, as was the love shining so brightly in Starsky's eyes. He knew what Starsky was thinking, seeing the regret in those familiar sapphire colored eyes, knowing that Hutch would have to live, albeit briefly, through the horror of seeing his best friend and partner blown away first.

"No!" Hutch cried out, as the gun was cocked. Pale blue eyes shifted desperately from the gun to the face of the man he knew and loved for so long. There was nothing he could do to save Starsky, nothing he could say, not now, not when there were only a few seconds left . . .

A cocky lopsided grin lifted the corners of the brunet's bleeding mouth and a familiar wink from his longtime friend somehow eased the ache in Hutch's heart. _'Noooooooo!'_ Hutch's mind screamed silently over and over, his eyes never leaving his partner's bruised and battered face.

'Starsk.' Hutch mouthed, his voice lost in the sudden laughter that came from the gunman.

"See ya," Starsky whispered, his dark blue eyes searching his partner's face; as if memorizing each familiar detail, before the loud reverberating sound of the gun jolted the weary blond awake . . .

"No!" Hutch cried out, his heart palpitating wildly, eyes wide with the horror of his vivid dream, the sound of the echoing gunshot still ringing in his ears. The flaxen haired cop gasped, attempting to slow the rapid breaths that escaped into the quiet of the cave

"Mmm . . ."

The quiet murmurings brought Hutch back to the here and now as the tendrils of the horrific nightmare slowly ebbed and faded, leaving only the lingering remnants of fear and regret swirling in the blond's tattered heart.

Breathing heavily, Hutch slowly opened his eyes, his senses already aware of the faint smell of sandalwood and sweat, of the warm solid mass that leaned heavily against his chest, of the soft sable curls that tickled the length of his nose. The shaking blond clutched the brunet tighter in his arms, hearing the slight groan that came from his partner.

_Starsky._

Still alive, still safe in his arms as they waited out the storm that finally seemed to be dissipating.

_Starsky_.

Still breathing, although the sound of it was erratic and harsh. Still trembling, as the fever spiked and the brunet twitched uncomfortably, the heat in his body radiating out and into the body of fair-haired man behind him.

Hutch took a deep breath, closing his eyes to savor the moment of just being, of knowing that Starsky was still with him. His mind raced back to the cabin, mentally re-enacting their conversation, hearing Starsky's words once more as the frantic beating of his heart finally began to slow down . . .

"_Almost every night, Hutch, I see you dyin' right before my eyes and there's nuthin' I can do t'save ya."_

"_Starsky, it's just a dream . . ."_

"_For now," the brunet interjected, "But what happens when it comes true, huh?" The brunet turned to look at his partner, and even in the darkness surrounding them, Hutch could see the startling pain and bleak despair in his friend's shimmering eyes. "I can't lose you, Hutch. God, if you ever died on my watch, I jus' . . ."_

"_Hey, take it easy, buddy," Hutch murmured softly, reaching out to rub the tense muscles in his partner's back. "It's just a dream, Starsky. I'm right here, alive and well, sitting right beside you."_

_Starsky shook his head and shut his eyes to the soothing voice of his partner. "Ya keep askin' me why I don't wanna make the appointment for the shrink, but don'chya see, Hutch? One day, it could be you dyin' out there on the streets and that's a risk I jus' ain't willin' to take anymore."_

A vision of Starsky kneeling in that wet dirty alley of his nightmare, hands on his head as the shot of the gun echoed off the brick walls made Hutch shudder, his hands unconsciously clenching tighter to his sleeping partner who murmured a soft and incoherent protest.

"_Almost every night, Hutch, I see you dyin' right before my eyes and there's nuthin' I can do t'save ya."_

Hutch shuddered, his sensitive heart beating rapidly as he tried to get a hold of the fear that still coursed through his veins as remnants of the nightmare played behind his tightly closed lids, images of Starsky falling face first into the dirty puddle of alley scum water from the impact of the bullet that slammed into the back of his skull, shook the blond to his core. _'God, if Starsky were having the same kind of dreams like the one I just had . . .'_ Hutch shuddered once more in dread. To think of Starsky suffering that way, night after night, agonizing and replaying his friend's death over and over . . . it was just too much to comprehend! It was no wonder that Starsky had second thoughts about returning to the streets.

Hutch lifted pale lashes and opened his eyes once more, drifting them lightly over the familiar face of his best friend and partner. Looking at Starsky in repose, long dark lashes pressed against pale clammy skin, softened the blond's features with the fondness and love he felt for his dark haired counterpart. Starsky looked so young and vulnerable as he slept fitfully and Hutch unconsciously tightened his hold, feeling the need to protect his friend and shield him from further hurt.

After a few minutes of quiet reflecting and soul searching, the flaxen haired detective lifted his arm to glance at his watch, knowing his wish to safeguard his partner's need for rest would shortly come to an end. With a heavy sigh of regret, Hutch made the decision to wake his partner. As it was, too much time had passed already and the blond frowned in annoyance at himself for letting them fall asleep in the first place. It almost pained Hutch to have to wake the brunet up, but Starsky had a concussion and he shouldn't have been sleeping for as long as he did . . . for as long as _**they**_ did!

Hutch could have kicked himself! They were being hunted down like wild animals, and sleeping hadn't been on the blond's agenda when they found the cave. It was supposed to be just a temporary shelter and here he was, passed out, when he should have been doing something to help Starsky. His partner needed medical attention and they wouldn't be finding that in a dark cave!

As gently as he could, Hutch shook his partner awake, nudging the brunet into the wakeful world, biting his lip as the dark curls lolled listlessly against his chest. "Hey, Gordo," Hutch whispered into the shell of his partner's ear, "You need to wake up now. We gotta . . . we gotta get a move on it, those hunters could be anywhere by now." The blond cop gave another gentle nudge to his curly haired companion, shaking the tousled head upon his shoulder.

"Mmm," Starsky groaned, his breathing heavy and erratic, a frown creasing his brow as the feeling of pain kicked in and registered once more.

Hutch watched as the line of dark heavy lashes rolled to and fro, the small painful gasps emitting softly from his partner's dry lips made the blond wince in sympathy.

"Hu . . ."

"Yeah, right here, babe," Hutch soothed, as long dark lashes slowly lifted to reveal dark blue eyes filled with confusion.

"Where . . ."

"It's okay, Starsk," Hutch whispered, gently rubbing his partner's right arm, "We're still in the cave, but the rainstorm seems to be blowing over, just a light drizzle right now."

Starsky blinked several times as his vision cleared, though the relentless pounding in his head continued unmercifully. "Hutch?" the brunet whispered, then swallowed, his voice rough and sleep worn. "You . . . you okay?"

Hutch smiled sadly, feeling the tug on his heart at his partner's soft words. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's you who's banged up right now, Gordo."

"Yeah?" The small smile that lifted the brunet's pale lips made the blond feel worse inside.

"Yeah."

"Wha' happen, huh?"

"You got shot, remember?" Hutch gently reminded as he checked the deep cut to the side of Starsky's head that he'd cleaned and butterfly-bandaged earlier on. "You hit your head there pretty hard on the window. It's a wonder there were no glass shards found in that thick skull of yours, buddy," the blond said with a little smile.

"Huh." Starsky said, eyes closing again in exhaustion. "No wonder I feel like shit."

"Yeah, unfortunately you look like shit, too" Hutch chuckled softly when he heard the brunet snort quietly, feeling how feverishly warm Starsky's body was against his own. He could feel Starsky's head loll listlessly against the barrel of his own chest and tilt backwards as the brunet looked up to peer owlishly at him. He could see the perplexed frown as Starsky reached up for his partner's face.

"You're bleedin'" Starsky said softly, his right hand lightly brushing the blond's temple.

"Am I?" Hutch frowned, reaching up to feel the crusty dried flakes of blood that had scabbed over a shallow furrow in his temple. "Huh. Never even knew I got cut."

Breathing shallow breaths, eyes at half-mast, Starsky grinned weakly and said, "That's 'cause . . . you're Superman."

"Right," Hutch snorted, gently easing his way out from behind his partner who he carefully propped up against the rough surface wall of the cave. Feeling every aching twinge in his own bruised and battered body, the blond made his way to the entrance of the small cave and peered out into the night. Though the heavy rains had finally subsided, the forest was not inviting at all. Cold winds and dripping foliage would make traveling difficult and unpleasant for normally healthy people, but to drag a wounded and bleeding Starsky through the forest at night as hunters chased them with high-powered rifles would be an almost impossible feat.

The soft, but heavy breathing of his partner made Hutch turn from the mouth of the cave, his pale blue eyes searching the darkness behind until he could discern the shadowy shape of the brunet who seemed to be struggling as he leaned over to reach for something out of sight.

"Starsk?" Hutch called out in a whisper as he hurried back into the depths of the cave. "Take it easy, babe," Hutch murmured softly, leaning over to ease his partner back into a sitting position.

"C-C'mere," Starsky gasped, weakly waving his partner in closer, smiling wanly as Hutch crouched low beside him. The brunet fumbled as he clicked open the first aid kit that he dragged next to him, slowly digging around inside the box until his hand emerged with small packets of alcohol wipes.

Hutch swallowed down the lump that rose in his throat as he watched Starsky struggle in vain to tear the packet open. "What do you need, Starsk? Lemme help, buddy," the blond whispered as he took the packet from his partner's limp hands and tore the little envelope open for the brunet. Handing the wet gauze back to Starsky, Hutch's brow furrowed with worry. He'd noticed how his partner had tried to ineffectively raise his dominant left hand, only to have it drop weakly into his lap.

"C-C'mere," Starsky repeated, his voice, whisper soft, as Hutch leaned into his partner's personal space. The wounded brunet wearily raised his right hand and began wiping gently against the blond's temple, cleaning out the small gash with the alcohol pad.

The handsome blond winced at the sudden sting of the wipe and noticed that Starsky mirrored the pained expression. "Maybe you should try out for the role of Florence Nightingale too, Gordo!" Hutch joked, easing the look of pain on his partner's face.

"Nah," Starsky exhaled slowly, his right hand still clutching the now soiled gauze dropped down weakly into his lap. "My bedside m-manners suck!"

Hutch snorted, appreciating his partner's attempt at banter. "Thanks, pal," Hutch whispered worriedly, reaching out to gently brush back the curls that plastered the forehead of Starsky's clammy face. The blond was touched that his wounded partner would think of his welfare despite his own severe injuries.

"G-Gotta take c . . ." the uncompleted sentenced ended in a soft gasp as Starsky gritted his teeth against the sharp stab of pain that flared in his upper back. "Uungh," the brunet grunted softly, dark blue eyes fisting shut against the pain, his body trembling uncontrollably as he surfed through the worst of it.

"Easy, take it easy, buddy," Hutch soothed, gently pulling his wounded partner into his strong embrace. "I got you, I'm right here, Starsk."

As the tremors subsided, Hutch gently pressed against Starsky's left arm, squeezing harder against his partner's bicep. A worried frown grooved the blond's brow as his large hand ran down the brunet's arm, finally ending with Starsky's hand held in his own. No matter how hard he squeezed or prodded, there was little reaction from his friend and Hutch could feel his heart clench with the concern he felt inside; his mind racing back in time to a little dingy room in an Italian restaurant on a stormy night similar to the one they'd just escaped from.

_The night Starsky took a bullet to the back. _

_The night Starsky almost died on his watch. _

Hutch closed his eyes as vivid memories and images came rushing back. The same morbid thoughts that filled his mind back then, flooded his mind now…

_Blood loss_

_Nerve damage_

_Shock_

_Possible lung damage_

_Paralysis._

The blond silently asked himself again why he couldn't just let Starsky quit this damn job of theirs. After all they had been through together; all the near misses they survived. How much longer would their luck hold out?

Hutch mentally shook those crippling thoughts away and cleared his mind. He needed to keep his head in the game. Although Hutch knew it was foolish to move Starsky, as far as the blond knew, they were still being hunted and it would be even more foolish to just stay in one place. In no time Jake and his cronies would find them if they didn't get a move on it, yet he couldn't risk even more injury to Starsky. The bullet was still lodged somewhere within his partner's back and Hutch had enough medical training to know that he needed to keep his partner still and immobilized to minimize the damage to his already traumatized body, to keep the bullet from moving, causing more internal damage.

Hutch worried his bottom lip, torn, caught between a rock and a hard place. The flaxen haired cop yanked at possible scenarios and solutions to their impossible predicament, only to discard and reject them one by one.

"Hey, Hutch," Starsky said, his voice thready and breathless.

"Yeah?"

"S-stop thinkin' too much." Starsky grinned weakly, "Ya might . . . damage somethin' up there." The brunet nodded his chin towards the golden head of his friend.

Hutch snorted and winked. "Too late, buddy. Already damaged. Been with you too long."

The weak grin from the brunet made Hutch lift his lips with a returned smile. "Anyway," Hutch said softly, breaking the shared moment, "We need to get you some help, buddy. I gotta get you out of here and into a hospital."

"The car . . ." Starsky whispered, his voice almost lost in the dark stillness of the cave.

"The car? It's a wreck. There's no way that we could . . ."

"The radio . . . call for . . ." Starsky gasped for air as a spasm of pain suddenly ripped into him, making the brunet clutch weakly with his good hand onto Hutch's arm.

"Easy, take it easy, Starsk," Hutch murmured softly, moving in to hang onto the rigid form of his partner until Starsky let a short burst of breath as the crippling pain released him. "You okay?"

"B-Boy . . . that was . . ." The winded brunet closed his eyes in exhaustion, dark lashes concealing the extent of the pain he was feeling.

"I know, buddy," Hutch soothed, worried about how breathless his partner seemed to be. "I know, but you did good."

"R-radio . . ."

"Yeah, the radio." Hutch smiled, knowing Starsky was helping him surf through his own pain too, by keeping him focused on the solutions and not the problems. "You thinking those hicks might have just searched the car for the money and then left?"

"M-maybe. You could . . . d-double back, call for the . . . troops." Starsky stammered, his voice growing weaker by the minute.

Hutch frowned. The thought of leaving his partner alone, unprotected in this cave by himself was not an option for the blond. Yet, Hutch knew the radio would be the quickest and most efficient way for them to get help as soon as possible.

"Jus' … jus' go." Starsky pushed, knowing Hutch was hesitant to leave, but knowing there was no way that he could go with. As it was, the pain was a constant throbbing that pulsed with every beat of the brunet's heart. Any movement, whether deliberate or accidental, caused the pain to flare and spike uncontrollably and it was all Starsky could do to contain and keep abreast of the excruciating surges that tore through his battered body. "I would go, but . . . I'm k-kinda . . . stuck here."

Hutch bit his bottom lip, his mind racing. Alone, it would take him about twenty minutes to double back and get to the car, make the call, and then return to the cave. With Starsky along it would take much longer, and the risk to his partner's well being was something he wouldn't take if he didn't have to.

"Hutch?" The brunet forced one eye open to glare at his hesitant partner.

"All right!" Hutch said a bit too harshly, hating that his partner would be alone to fend for himself if only for a little while. Reaching behind him, Hutch handed Starsky his gun. "Here, take this."

"Huh?" Starsky murmured blankly, blinking back the blurriness as he shook his head to clear his vision.

"I want you to take this, use it if Jake and the other hunters make an appearance." Hutch urged, gently taking Starsky left hand from his lap and wrapping his cold lifeless fingers around the smooth handle. The tall blond swallowed back the lump he felt in his throat as Starsky's hand fell listlessly from around his gun, the heavy weapon dropping uselessly into his lap once more.

Panting softly, eyes at half-mast, Starsky raised his dark blue, pain-filled orbs to Hutch's face. "S-sorry . . . I don' think . . . y-you take it." The brunet smiled weakly, "Gonna jus'. . . gonna sit here . . . m-maybe . . . take a little nap."

Hutch dragged his hand through his hair with frustration, the groove between his brows furrowing deeper as he worried for his hurting partner.

"H-Hey," Starsky whispered, breathing raggedly with short gasps of air, fighting off the need to pass out, knowing he needed to shove his partner out the door. As weak as he felt, Starsky could still feel the worry and trepidation radiating out from his blond counterpart and he knew Hutch was torn between the need to stay and the need to go.

The wounded brunet weakly lifted his right hand in the air, "C'mere," Starsky waved listlessly until Hutch leaned in even closer. The brunet licked his dry lips and closed his eyes wearily. "I n-need help, Hutch," Starky whispered, his voice weary and broken, knowing the exact words that would spur his reluctant partner into taking action. "T-take the gun . . . jus' go . . . I . . . I can't do it . . . without you."

"Yeah," Hutch murmured, blinking back the hot tears that suddenly blurred his partner's face, knowing how much it took for Starsky to confess that, compounding the worry that already filled his heart. "Okay, just take it easy, babe." Hutch soothed, leaning in until his forehead pressed gently against Starsky's, taking a few seconds to breathe in the brunet's familiar essence, innately knowing that Starsky was doing the same. "And you gotta promise me, buddy, to stay awake because I'm coming right back, you hear? Twenty minutes. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Twen' . . . minutes. 'Kay." Starsky slurred, lifting his heavy lids as something cold was pressed into the palm of his right hand. Blinking back the fuzziness and slowly shifting his eyes to the heavy article, Starsky swallowed back the emotion and memories that rushed to the forefront as his gaze alighted upon Hutch's familiar golden pocket watch. The weary brunet lifted his eyes from the timepiece, connecting with the familiar blue orbs of his partner's eyes.

For a moment no one spoke as distant memories rushed back in heartbeat. An Italian restaurant, a rainy night, a battered and worn couch in a small backroom, a golden pocket watch left in the keeping of a wounded friend and partner . . .

The tall blond swallowed hard and gently ruffled the dark sable curls before rising to his feet. Looking down at the wounded brunet who valiantly tried to grin up at him, Hutch attempted to smile. "You hold onto that for me, okay?" the flaxen haired detective whispered encouragingly, knowing he was asking his partner to hang on to more than just the watch. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, Starsk. I promise."

**To Be Contined . . .**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

**A/N:** _Aloha Everyone . . . it's a holiday! Please accept my humble apologies for taking so long to get back to this story, but RL has been quite brutal to say the least. Holidays give me time to be a mom, time to rest and recuperate, time to think and dream, and time to finally write and post a chapter. Love to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn_

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

"Twen' . . . minutes. 'Kay." Starsky slurred, lifting his heavy lids as something cold was pressed into the palm of his right hand. Blinking back the fuzziness and slowly shifting his eyes to the heavy article, Starsky swallowed back the emotion and memories that rushed to the forefront as his gaze alighted upon Hutch's familiar golden pocket watch. The weary brunet lifted his eyes from the timepiece, connecting with the familiar blue orbs of his partner's eyes.

For a moment no one spoke as distant memories rushed back in heartbeat. An Italian restaurant, a rainy night, a battered and worn couch in a small backroom, a golden pocket watch left in the keeping of a wounded friend and partner . . .

The tall blond swallowed hard and gently ruffled the dark sable curls before rising to his feet. Looking down at the wounded brunet who valiantly tried to grin up at him, Hutch attempted to smile. "You hold onto that for me, okay?" the flaxen haired detective whispered encouragingly, knowing he was asking his partner to hang on to more than just the watch. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, Starsk. I promise."

**~Chapter Twelve~**

He ducked behind a large boulder; donkey grass and thick wet shrubs hid him from the hunter's view as they quietly passed by a few feet to the right from where Hutch crouched, body rigid and still. The blond quietly let out the breath he was holding as the hunters made their way down the hill, gesturing silently with hand-signals to one another until they moved out of view.

Hutch closed his eyes, thankful for the slight drizzle that made the dried leaves underfoot soggy and soundless as he stood, bent over at the waist, and hurried back to the near hidden cave in the opposite direction from the hunters. Seeing firsthand the destruction of the car's radio sent shards of livid anger and desperation into his being, but witnessing the sight of the hunters actually looking for them sent spikes of fear racing up the blond's spine.

They had been so close to the cave, so close to finding Starsky. The thought of his partner, alone and vulnerable, made Hutch move faster and less cautiously than he should have- his only intent to find and make sure that his dark haired friend was as he had left him.

Making sure he was definitely alone and not being watched, Hutch quietly entered the cave, his light blue eyes adjusting to the darkness within. He could hear his partner before he was actually able to see him; Starsky's ragged and erratic breathing pinpointing the way to the downed detective. As he neared, Hutch could see that Starsky was sleeping fitfully, his right hand twitching spasmodically around the pocket watch, dark lashes rolling listlessly across warmly flushed cheeks.

Crouching next to the brunet, Hutch gently ran his hand over his partner's brow feeling the ravages of fever that held the brunet tight in its clutches. Worried lines of despair and frustration marked the blond's brow as Hutch pulled out another clean white tee-shirt he had taken from his duffle in the car and hastily shoved into his jacket before making his way back. Starsky's bandages needed changing and his wound needed to be checked once again. A feverish patient, often times meant infection, and that thought made the blond's stomach churn.

As carefully as he could, Hutch gently leaned his sleeping partner forward a bit, untying the crude strips of shredded sheet material he had used to bind the bullet wound, dismayed to still see the slight splotches of fresh blood staining the already heavily soiled bandages. Breathing deeply to control the shaking of his hands, Hutch began to take off the sodden strips of material knowing he needed to clean out the wound once more. Leaning over to grab the first aid kit, his ears trained upon the labored breathing of his friend, Hutch opened the metal box and fished out the small bottle of rubbing alcohol, his hands suddenly stilling as he heard the soft moan that escaped Starsky's dry lips.

"Mmmm," the feverish brunet groaned, his dark head lolling listlessly against the front of Hutch's shoulder.

"Hey, buddy," Hutch soothed, leaning his partner back, his right hand reaching out to cup the side of Starsky's face, feeling the dry heat radiating off his dark haired counterpart. It didn't take a thermometer to tell Hutch that the brunet's fever was high. Concerned blue eyes flicked over his partner's face, watching as Starsky's long lashes slowly lifted, revealing familiar blue eyes that were both dazed and cloudy.

"Hu . . ."

"Yeah, right here," Hutch murmured absently, stroking back a few errant, unruly curls from his friend's feverish brow. "I'm right here, babe. How you doing, huh?"

"You came b-back . . ."

"Of course I came back, dummy," Hutch snorted affectionately, "I promised, didn't I?"

"T-took longer . . . than twenty minutes," Starsky gasped. "Th-thought you f-forgot me."

Hutch snorted, a small smile of affection lighted the worry in his eyes. "Since when have you become a clock watcher, huh?" the blond whispered fondly, swallowing back the emotion he felt as he gazed down at his hurting friend.

Starsky snorted softly, the weariness and pain that ravaged his battered body evident in that small, pitiful sound. "Here, you go . . . k-kept her safe for you . . ." The brunet gestured feebly with his right hand, the gold pocket watch still clenched tightly within.

The tall blond swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. "Thanks, buddy," Hutch whispered, leaning forward to take the watch from his partner, feeling how cold Starsky's fingers were as the brunet pressed the timepiece into the blond's hand. Hutch gently squeezed Starsky's fingers before taking the watch back, his voice soft and soothing as he whispered, "How you holding up, pal?"

"Oh, 'm fine," Starsky murmured, long dark lashes drifting close so that his perceptive partner couldn't see the truth mirrored in his eyes. "T-took a nap. You t-took so long . . . I was . . . gettin' worried."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Hutch apologized, knowing Starsky was trying to shield him from the pain he was in. The handsome blond gently leaned the brunet forward once more, willfully ignoring the soft groan that came from his partner before he changed his mind, intent upon changing the wound's dressing, yet hating the fact that he could be causing his friend even more discomfort. Hutch frowned as he listened to labored breathing coming from his dark haired counterpart, deftly moving his own body in front of Starsky's so that he could shoulder some of his partner's weight, while freeing his hands to attend to the brunet's wound.

Starsky winced, feeling each gentle jostle as Hutch carefully tended to him. He felt so tired and drained of energy, his body heavy and lethargic as confusion clouded his mind once more until a sharp spike of pain speared him back into the here and now, making him remember the dire situation they were in. Breathing heavily, Starsky leaned into his partner's chest, taking comfort from Hutch's solid warmth until the blond moved carefully away. The dark haired cop sighed softly, immediately missing the security and peace he felt inside as Hutch eased him back once more to lean upon the cold rock wall.

"W-we gotta get you to a doctor," Hutch stuttered nervously, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. "But those assholes are out there and they're hot on our trail. Fuck!" The flaxen haired cop swore quietly, shoving the useless medical kit to the side in his vexation.

"Hey . . ."

The word was nearly whispered, so soft was it in fact, that had Hutch not been listening for it he would have missed it all together; yet that small sound was enough to curb the anger, the fretfulness, the dismay and anguish that was washing over the worried and frustrated blond. Peering down into his friend's clammy and pale countenance, Hutch strained to listen to the words of his partner.

"The l-lake . . . how f-far?"

"The lake?" Hutch frowned. "It's a couple of miles back . . . why?"

Starsky lifted dark lashes to look up at his friend's wavering face, blinking back the dizziness he suddenly felt. "Huh?" The brunet shook his head in confusion.

"The lake. You mentioned the lake, Starsk." Hutch prodded gently, the labored breathing of his partner made the blond twitch with fear. "It's a couple of miles back . . ."

"Yeah, the lake," Starsky panted, pausing to take in another labored breath, "The Doc . . . Ellen . . . she lives n-near the lake. You could go . . . get help."

"I can't leave you here, Starsk. Jake and his friends are out there looking for us. I just saw them before I came back to the cave. If I leave you here, they'll find you for sure. We'll have to go together." Hutch whispered, worry etching an even deeper groove between the pale winged brows. The flaxen-haired detective bit his lower lip, silently questioning his own judgment. Starsky looked bad and the possibility of injuring the brunet even more made the blond silently vacillate with indecision. Hutch's mind raced as fast as his heart, sorting through possible scenarios and each time, he came up with the same thing. Starsky would have to accompany him. He couldn't leave his partner here, hurt and vulnerable. There was no other solution.

"Hey . . ."

A weak tug to his sleeve brought Hutch back to the present, light blue eyes filling with distress and he looked at the pale coloring of Starsky's usually darker, olive toned complexion.

"Hey," Hutch said, forcing himself to grin reassuringly at the wounded brunet, leaning closer to Starsky to hear his soft words.

"D-don't think too much, Blondie," Starsky gasped, a weak grin tugging at his dry, pale lips, "Gonna b-break somethin' . . . for sure . . . in that . . . head of yours."

Hutch snorted, forcing himself to smile at Starsky's weak attempt at humor. Somehow they always reverted back to sarcasm and jokes during times of crisis, depending on levity to ease the dire circumstances if only for a few minutes to get them through. Hutch nodded towards the first aid kit, "Maybe I should take a pill and make it all go away."

Starsky chuckled softly, a hint of a twinkle in the familiar blue of his eyes, making Hutch's own smile widen in response only to quickly disappear as the brunet gasped and grimaced, dark lashes quickly concealing the severity of the pain he was really in.

"Take it easy, buddy," Hutch soothed, reaching out to gently hold and comfort his curly haired friend through the worse of it, releasing his own breath as the wave of pain finally released the wounded man who clutched tightly to the sleeve of his jacket.

Gasping, Starsky struggled to open his eyes, heavy dark lashes rose in increments until Hutch could see twin sapphire gems that gleamed feverishly bright in the darkness of the cave. The dark haired cop searched the blond's countenance, his eyes speaking volumes without uttering a word.

Starsky knew he'd be a liability if he went with Hutch to the lake. He'd be risking Hutch's safety, unable to move as quickly or as silently as he needed to, especially with the hunters breathing down their necks. Being wounded and disabled, the dark haired cop knew he wouldn't be able to watch Hutch's back like he usually did and that thought tore the brunet up inside. It was one thing to risk his own life, but risking Hutch's was not an option. Breathing heavily, the brunet finally broke eye contact and turned his head away, swallowing back the lump that rose in his throat, but not before Hutch could read the doubt and guilt, the fear and worry, in those brilliant blue depths.

Hutch own eyes softened with concern, knowing innately what his partner was feeling inside; yet there was no other way, not with the imminent danger of the hunters tracking them down. Left alone, Starsky would be defenseless, unable to even hold up a gun, much less squeeze the trigger of his cannon.

"Hey, buddy," Hutch began gently, forcing himself to smile reassuringly as Starsky turned back to look at him. "We're gonna make it . . ."

"Oh, that's right," Starsky mumbled under his breath, "Cause I'm so able to . . . to move around without any help."

Hutch snorted softly at his friend's sarcasm. "Well, the rain's stopped for a bit. If we're gonna head back to the lake, now would be the time."

"Look, Hutch . . ." Starsky began, intent upon dissuading the stubborn blond into taking him along for the long hike back to the lake.

"No! You listen to me, Starsky." Hutch suddenly snapped, his usually gentle voice becoming hard and harsh. "I'm not leaving you here. You got that? I know you're worried, thinking that you're gonna be slowing me down, that it'll take double the time to drag your heavy ass back to the lake than it would be for me to just go it alone. I know you want me to leave you here and that you'd be willing to take your chances in this cave alone rather than risk my safety. Well you know what, buddy? You can just shove that kind of crappy thoughts back into that hard head of yours and you can just stop thinking shit like that! You hear me? I'm not leaving you, Starsky. If you aren't gonna go with, then I'm staying here with you and we'll take our chances together . . . like always!"

Tangible silence filled the damp interior of the cave as Hutch's tirade came to an abrupt end; and for a brief moment, both detectives eyed each other warily in the darkness of their stony haven until Starsky snorted softly, a small grin tweaking the corners of his mouth.

"What?" Hutch demanded, though his voice had now returned to normal once more, and a smile began to form where there once was a frown.

"Nothin'" Starsky replied, as he tried to heave his unresponsive body into a standing postion.

"What are you doing?" Hutch asked, concern instantly replacing the smile on his face as he saw his partner struggle to get up. The blond quickly moved in to help the brunet to his feet, wincing at the stifled groan that came from the wounded man. "What are you trying to do?"

""m tryin' t' lift . . . m-my . . . heavy ass," Starsky gasped, breathing heavily through his nostrils as he attempted to stem the excruciating pain that flared as sharp shards of glass tore through his back and shoulder with each movement. The brunet grunted softly as he wavered, knowing he'd be sitting in the dirt once more were it not for Hutch grasping on to his waist and jacket.

Hutch swallowed, standing as still as he possibly could as Starsky surfed through the pain, knowing the brunet was trying to get a hold of it, before they made their way to the entrance of the cave. It killed the sensitive blond to know that his partner was suffering and yet, Hutch marveled at the courage and tenacity of his dark haired counterpart.

"G-Guess my . . . ass . . . must weigh a ton, huh?" Starsky joked lamely, needing to ease the tension he felt in the rigid shoulders of the silent blond.

Hutch snorted softly, feeling suddenly thankful that Starsky was still offering to banter despite the obvious pain he was in. "Yeah, your ass weighs a lot, pal," Hutch chuckled as they slowly made their way to the mouth of the cave, "But not as much as that hard head of yours, buddy!"

**To Be Contined . . .**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

**A/N**: _Aloha Everyone . . . _

_It's the Eve of Christmas here in the islands, and I wanted to bestow upon you another chapter to this story. I am so very sorry for the constant delay, but since the end of September, a dear friend of mine was stricken with a rare and aggressive type of brain cancer that was inoperable. I had been taking care of her during whatever spare time I had between being a teacher and a mother and watching her swiftly declining had been heartbreaking needless to say. Although my friend fought valiantly against this insidious and horrific monster, it continuously crept to the center of her brain and she finally succumbed to it just a few short days before Christmas, the holiday she most loved. _

_This is not a special chapter by any means, nor is this a special story; but at this time, I would like to dedicate this writing to my friend who will remain anonymous. She was a light to all who knew her and I know that she will be sorely missed by us all._

"My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today."Hazel-rah, "Watership Down."

_Thank you all for your understanding and may I take this opportune time to wish you all a very wondrous, and joy-filled holiday season. Merry Christmas to you all! Thank you so much for your continued support._

_ Love and light to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn_

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

Hutch swallowed, standing as still as he possibly could as Starsky surfed through the pain, knowing the brunet was trying to get a hold of it, before they made their way to the entrance of the cave. It killed the sensitive blond to know that his partner was suffering and yet, Hutch marveled at the courage and tenacity of his dark haired counterpart.

"G-Guess my . . . ass . . . must weigh a ton, huh?" Starsky joked lamely, needing to ease the tension he felt in the rigid shoulders of the silent blond.

Hutch snorted softly, feeling suddenly thankful that Starsky was still offering to banter despite the obvious pain he was in. "Yeah, your ass weighs a lot, pal," Hutch chuckled as they slowly made their way to the mouth of the cave, "But not as much as that hard head of yours, buddy!"

**~ Chapter Thirteen ~**

"Take it easy, Starsk," Hutch whispered, easing his winded partner to lean wearily against the soggy bark of a tall pine as he peered through the brambles at Ellen's cabin a few yards away**. **Although it was just an hour or so before dawn,a welcoming light already escaped through the curtains that covered the front windows and smoke curled lazily from the chimney overhead. Apparently the good doctor was either a late sleeper, or an early riser. The homey atmosphere made the blond long to get out of the dreary dampness of the forest and into the warm shelter that the cabin would provide.

A weak cough tore Hutch's attention from the wooden structure to his miserable companion beside him, and the guilty blond gently stroked back the damp curls that framed his partner's face. If he was feeling weary and was uncomfortably suffering from the freezing chill of morning, how much so would Starsky be, wounded as he was. Long dark lashes lay smudged against pale cheeks and Starsky's labored breathing made Hutch sick to his stomach, yet the brunet mumbled no complaints.

"We're here, buddy. We made it," the flaxen haired detective whispered encouragingly as he grasped Starsky's forearm, "Just a little bit further and we'll be inside your friend's cabin."

Heavy lids rose to half-mast as dark blue eyes clouded with pain and exhaustion sought the blond's face, and then glimmered suspiciously. "Yeah? Y-you said that . . . an hour ago. You're a . . . a terrible liar, Hutch."

The blond snorted softly, his light blue eyes softening with affection for his hurting friend. "C'mon, Starsky," Hutch encouraged, carefully shouldering his partner's weight as they slowly made their way to the cabin steps; the brunet's labored breathing sounding harsh and loud in the quiet hush and stillness of the early morning.

"Hold on, mister," a voice rang out from behind the wooden door. Hutch watched as the curtains were drawn discreetly back and dark eyes peeked out from behind the tip of a rifle. "I'd think twice before taking another step."

"Doc Ellen?" Hutch's voice called out cautiously, easing the brunet gently down to sit on the edge of the second step. "Take it easy, buddy," Hutch soothed, wincing at the soft groan that escaped from between his partner's dry lips. Once he made sure his dark haired counterpart was settled, Hutch raised his eyes to the window once more. "It's okay, Ellen. Name's Hutch. My partner needs help . . . you know him, Dave Starsky."

Hutch gave a small audible sigh of relief, turning to quickly eye the forest behind him, as he heard the cabin door being quickly unlatched from the inside. The heavy wooden door swung open slowly, revealing first the rifle and then the woman who eyed the detective suspiciously, her dark brown eyes darting to the wounded brunet.

"What happened to him?" Ellen demanded, though her eyes were filled with concern, she made no move to lower the weapon.

"Some hunters shot him," Hutch briefed, crouching beside Starsky to check on the sodden bandages. "Starsky said you might know one of them . . . calls himself, Jake."

"Damn it!" Ellen cursed and frowned with displeasure. "I told Dave he's bad news."

"They rammed our car over the guardrails with their Scout," Hutch continued softly as he concentrated on helping his unstable partner to stand.

"Shit! God damn idiots, the lot of them," Ellen said, shaking her head as she let the detectives bypass her into her home. "Always knew Jake was one crazy son of a bitch. Put him on the couch over there." Ellen directed, carefully leaned the rifle against the nearest wall as she made her way over to crouch in front of the brunet who slumped back into the soft cushions of the old furniture. "Go get some clean towels, Hutch, on the rack in the bathroom, door on the left, then bring me some hot water. I just boiled some, the kettle is on the stove; was just about to make me some tea when you hollered."

Hutch obediently left to carry out Ellen's orders as the woman gently rolled Starsky towards her so that she could take a look at the wound. Untying the bandages, Ellen's frown deepened.

"Hey Doc . . . how do I . . . h-how do I look, huh?" Starsky mumbled, the dark blue eyes that peeked out under heavy lids were dazed and filled with pain.

"Shush now," Ellen soothed, "You're still handsome as ever. No need to worry yourself sick about your good looks; no bullet wound's gonna steal that from ya! The only thing I want you to do is to keep still and rest, okay?"

"You're b-bossy." The brunet closed his eyes, but a slow grin tweaked the corner of his lips and it made the woman smile despite the worry she felt in her heart.

"He needs to be in a hospital." Hutch said softly as he kneeled beside the older woman. Ellen carefully took the bowl of steaming water from the detective as Hutch settled the towels on the edge of the couch. "The bullet's still in there."

"I can see that. Nearest hospital is in the next county," Ellen replied, her hands deftly removing the remaining bandages as her eyes shrewdly assessed the damage. "How you holdin' up, Dave?"

"'m fine," the weary cop murmured, "C-could use some . . .b-beer."

Ellen smiled softly as the curly haired cop attempted to grin, her hand was sure and gentle as she lifted Starsky's left arm and noted the weak response to the limb. The woman carefully soaked a washcloth in the hot water and squeezed it dry, carefully wiping around the edges of the soiled bandages that were still stuck to the detective's back. "I'll get you some water to drink in a little bit, Dave. You just hang in there and relax, okay?"

"Ya said that already," Starsky smirked wearily.

"Good to know yer listenin'" Ellen quipped back. "An' ya bes' follow instructions if ya know what's good fer ya."

At the brunet's weak nod, the woman sighed and then glanced at the blond. "The phone lines are out. Heavy rain does that sometimes, but my car is parked around back. The keys are on the kitchen counter. He needs to see a surgeon and we need to take him now."

Hutch nodded as his heart grew heavy with trepidation. "Okay," the blond said solemnly, rising to his full height as he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed the keys. He turned as Ellen came up behind him and whispered, "How is he, doc?"

"Well," Ellen replied softly as she busily filled a cup with tap water, "He ain't good, but I don' think I need t'tell ya that. The bullet's obviously moved. His left arm and side seems to be the most affected. Maybe it's a blessin' it's gone numb."

"What is it? N-nerve damage . . . paralysis? Starsky said you're a doctor. Tell me what's happening to my partner!" Hutch whispered, his voice growing hard with the worry and guilt he tried to contain.

"First of all let's clear the air. Dave lied to ya. I ain't a doctor no more, and secondly, it ain't my place to tell you anything. Now go get the car, Hutch," Ellen whispered calmly, reaching out to squeeze the blond's shoulder reassuringly. "There's nothin' we can do here. We need to get your partner to the people who can fix him. They have the tools and technology at the hospital that will help him."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Hutch asked softly, light blue eyes filling with hope. "I mean, once the surgeon removes the bullet . . . will he be as good as new?"

Ellen sighed inaudibly. Though she wanted to say something that would set the detective's heart at ease, she knew the brunet was in bad shape. Her warm brown eyes were filled with compassion as she stared up at the handsome blond. "Go get the car, Hutch," Ellen repeated softly, "Time's a wastin' and the quicker we get Dave outta here, the faster they can patch him up."

* * *

Hutch quickly made his way around to the back of the cabin, his mind still with his partner. The blond knew enough about gunshot wounds to know that Starsky was in trouble. The bullet had probably moved again as they struggled to make their way to Ellen's cabin. It had killed Hutch to drag his hurting friend through the damp and chill of the forest, stopping constantly to erase their tracks and make sure that they weren't being followed by the hunters. He knew that every step taken was torture for the brunet, but to Starsky's credit, the curly haired cop made no protest the whole way; yet his labored breathing, pain-filled gasps, and quiet groans, made Hutch constantly wince in empathy for his hurting friend.

Seeing Ellen's old truck around the corner made the detective break into a jog. The handsome blond hastily went around to the driver's side and stuck the key in the lock to open the door, but the loud piercing ping brought Hutch to a sudden crouch, his senses on high alert as he quickly scanned the perimeter of the forest ahead; peeking over the hood of the truck.

Another bullet tore through the passenger side window of the vehicle as shards of glass sprayed the interior of the cab and the blond ducked behind the tire on the driver's side.

"Fuck," Hutch snapped quietly, already knowing the hunters had found them. His mind raced frantically, wishing he had his gun with him, but he'd left his piece in the cabin after laying Starsky out on the couch. The blond's heart sank as he heard another bullet tear into the back tire on the other side of the truck; the air rushing out was loud in the quiet morning stillness.

"I don' think yer goin' anywhere, cop" Jake's voice called out from the line of trees. "Not in that junk, anyway!"

Hutch rolled his eyes in vexation as he heard the guffaws that came from the crazy hunter, but he quickly tuned out the raucous laughter and mentally ticked off the dwindling options he had left. They needed the truck to take Starsky to the hospital, but with the tire blown out, that wouldn't be happening in the near future. The truck probably had a spare tire, but there was no way the hunters would be kind enough to allow the time needed for a quick change. The phone lines were dead, no way to call for help or an ambulance. Starsky was still bleeding, growing weaker by the minute . . .

_Dammit!_

"You still there mister pohleece man?" the smug voice called out once more. "Bet ya must regret by now, ever comin' 'cross our path. Ya should'a never tried to swindle us like that. Dirty cops like you should be wiped out and I'm the man who's gonna do it!"

Hutch squinted, pinpointing the direction of the hunter's voice. Though he couldn't see exactly where Jake was hiding, if he had his gun, he could probably scare the hunter back into deeper coverage and make a run for the front of the cabin. The blond bit his lower lip, his mind quickly assessing the situation, ice blue eyes darting to the small cabin window where a quiet tapping noise drew his attention. For a brief moment he saw Ellen's worried eyes peeking out from the corner of the lower right pane, before the window frame was partially lifted up and the sharp end of a razor knife made quick work of the screen. The tip of Ellen's formidable rifle emerged through the small hole she'd made in the screen.

"Hutch?" Ellen whispered softly; her voice could barely be discerned, and nothing but the rifle tip could be seen. "Get ready to run."

As the rifle's loud bark echoed in the silent forest and splattered bullets in the direction of the hunters, Hutch sprinted around to the front of the cabin and barged through the door which had been left unlocked, slamming and latching the heavy wooden portal behind him. Pale blue eyes made contact with blazing sapphire, though he wasn't sure if the brightness in Starsky's pupils came from adrenaline or fever.

"You okay?" Starsky asked softly as he struggled to sit up; dark lashes slammed shut as pain flared and ripped across his upper back, the small gasp escaping his lips before the brunet could get a hold of it.

"Yeah," Hutch whispered with concern as he made his way over to quickly aid his partner. "How you holdin' up, buddy? You should just lie still and rest."

"'M okay," the brunet lied stiltedly through gritted teeth. "Heard the p-party outside . . . did . . . didn't want to m-miss all the fun."

Hutch snorted softly at his friend's quiet banter, his eyes searching around the cabin's small living quarters.

"It's over there," Starsky said, nodding towards the tiny wooden table near the kitchen. "Ellen put it there . . . when you went for the car."

The breathlessness in the brunet's usually strong voice sent shivers of worry down the blond's spine. "Thanks pal," Hutch smiled, gently squeezing his partner's thigh before he went to retrieve his gun.

"They're quiet for now," Ellen said, coming into the room, rifle held firmly under her arm, "But they won't be for long. Any ideas that you might have on gettin' us out of this predicament would be greatly appreciated right about now."

"You got . . . p-pizza? Maybe they're hungry," Starsky grinned weakly.

Ellen chuckled softly, "What are you doing up, Dave?" Warm brown eyes darted over to the tall handsome blond, "Your partner always this stubborn?"

"He didn't want to miss the party," Hutch deadpanned, as he dug out bullets from his pocket and loaded them into his gun. The fair haired detective winked at his partner who snorted softly, and then quickly made his way to the back window and peered out, hearing Ellen coming up quietly behind him.

"You see 'em?"

"Nope," Hutch replied, pale blue eyes futilely searching the line of trees in the distance. "They shot out the back tire. Truck's not going anywhere for awhile."

"Thought so." Ellen confirmed. "The spare's under the bed of the truck, but I don't think Jake's gonna let you change the damn thing without first plugging your ass full of holes from that rifle of his."

"Yup, that about sums it up," Hutch concurred, his eyes darting around the perimeter of the cabin's dirt yard, "And I'm pretty partial to my ass staying the way it is, so I guess changing the tire's not an option right now."

"Nope, it ain't," Ellen agreed softly, her sharp eyes scanning the forest foliage. "But your curly haired, stubborn friend that's stainin' my couch ain't gonna last this stand off. The longer it takes us to get him the help he needs the damage Dave sustained has a stronger chance of being a permanent one."

Long, pale lashes closed over troubled blue eyes, as Hutch took in a deep breath to steady his nerves, his forehead pressed lightly against the edge of the cold window pane. "What do you suggest?" The blond detective slowly turned to face the woman standing behind him, "I mean, you're a doctor, right? Can you take out the bullet?"

"What?" Ellen's face drained of color as she shook her head and took a couple of steps back. "I'm no doctor . . . I told ya that." The woman swallowed down the lump in her throat as she saw the play of emotions that crossed over the handsome blond's face. She could see the pain and worry etched plainly in the soft blue of his eyes. "The most I can do is to try and keep your partner comfortable until he can get the help he needs and . . ."

"Help? What help?" Hutch snapped; the pale blue color in his eyes turning to hard silver. "We're stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a bunch of over eager redneck hunters ready to blast us full of holes and all we can do is keep him 'comfortable?'"

"Dammit, Hutch, you lower your voice right now!" Ellen hissed, dark brown eyes shooting daggers at the angry blond. "We need to stay calm, and your angry tirade ain't gonna do a lick'a spit to help Dave get better! More'n likely, he can hear us right now and I know that this hea talk's gonna agitate the hell outta yer friend."

Hutch closed his eyes once more and forced out a frustrated puff of air, knowing the woman was right. If Starsky heard him panicking this way, the brunet would probably force himself to get up, adding more damage to what he already sustained. The blond dragged his hand wearily through his soft, golden strands and nodded reluctantly at Ellen; silently conveying to her that he now had a grip on his emotions.

"Okay." Ellen said softly, taking in a deep breath to ease the tension in her shoulders. "Okay. Now then, the way I see it, we can hole up in here and wait it out 'til help comes." The woman raised her hand, putting a stop to whatever protest Hutch was about to make as she continued, "I got enough ammo to hold them off for a while. Jake's dumb as doornail, but I don't think he's stupid enough to waltz up my front steps. He knows I'm a pretty good shot and with you here, he'll think twice before chancin' a chest full o' holes. Bein' that yer a cop and all, and judgin' by that piece of iron you're totin', I know you can hold yer own too, and . . .."

"What do you mean when you said, 'wait it out 'til help comes'?" Hutch interjected, "I don't think anyone will be coming out here looking for us. We're not due back to Bay City until the end of the week and . . ."

"Usually the sheriff, or sometimes his deputy, comes out here after a big rain like the one we just had last night, especially if the phone lines are down. Sherriff Jonas likes to make sure for himself that we are all right. I'm banking on him coming lakeside today before noon sometime."

Hutch nodded, "Let's hope you're right, Ellen. In any case, with the tire blown out, there's nothing we can do until he d. . ."

The loud sound of glass shattering made the blond duck instinctively into a crouch as he dragged the woman down beside him. Another retort came from the rifle outside and Hutch could hear the bullet angrily embed itself into the wooden side of the cabin.

"Hu-Hutch?"

"Starsky, get down!" Hutch snapped, looking towards the couch, eyes bright with worry as he saw his partner struggling to rise. Another stray bullet zinged by and shattered a large glass jar filled with pennies that sat on a shelf near the couch. "Damn it Starsk," Hutch growled, crawling over to the living room, "I said get down! Now!"

**To Be Contined . . .**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning**: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

**A/N**: _Aloha Everyone . . . _

_I hope that your holidays were festive and bright and that the New Year of 2010 is already treating you kindly, filling you with joy and prosperity and health. Today is the last day of my vacation and tomorrow I must once again go back to work. Knowing this, I spent the day writing this last chapter to IABOAE. I wanted to make sure that I finished this piece and not leave you hanging like I've done all year long. Please accept my humble apologies regarding this matter. The end of 2009 was not kind at all for so many of us. I hope that this chapter makes up for everything. For some reason, it was very difficult to write and I would love to hear your feedback. And now without further ado, I bring to you . . . Chapter Fourteen and the Epilogue._

_Love and light to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn_

**Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":**

The loud sound of glass shattering made the blond duck instinctively into a crouch as he dragged the woman down beside him. Another retort came from the rifle outside and Hutch could hear the bullet angrily embed itself into the wooden side of the cabin.

"Hu-Hutch?"

"Starsky, get down!" Hutch snapped, looking towards the couch, eyes bright with worry as he saw his partner struggling to rise. Another stray bullet zinged by and shattered a large glass jar filled with pennies that sat on a shelf near the couch. "Damn it Starsk," Hutch growled, crawling over to the living room, "I said get down! Now!"

**~ Chapter Fourteen ~**

"Wow, that's some story! You and Hutch getting out of that cabin in the nick of time."

"The sheriff came by just like Ellen said he would, heard all the shootin' and commotion. Started firin' into the trees, all the while yelling at Jake and his boys to drop their rifles and surrender."

"I would think that Jake wouldn't have given up so easily."

"He didn't. His kid and his buddy got the drop on him. Knocked him out cold with the butt of a rifle, then they turned themselves in."

"And how's your arm?"

"It's better. The bullet was pressin' against some nerves, which caused some minor damage. Thank God it was temporary. Took about a month and a half of rest and recuperation and a lot of therapy at rehab, but the arm's as good as new now.

"That's great news, Dave."

"Yeah. Kinda partial to having this hand workin'. (Flexes left hand) Gun arm and all."

"I see that you're a leftie. Play any baseball?"

"Some, but I think I'm better at basketball." (A blinding grin)

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were proficient at a lot of different sports, Dave.

(A quick grin)

And Ellen? What became of her?"

"She's still living in that cabin. Came to visit me while I was laid up in that hospital - the county over. She gave me some good advice."

"And what did she tell you?"

(A quiet snort, then silence)

"Well, whatever it was, it must have been something quite profound to have reached your heart. I don't think you would be here if it didn't, Dave."

"Actually, she told me to quit the force. Said I'd be an idiot to go back. After what she witnessed at the cabin, she said no job is worth that kind of shit."

(A soft chuckle)

"She sounds like a tough lady who knows her mind. Which um . . . brings me to the million-dollar question . . . are you clear about what's on your mind? Talking with you like I have today, I've discerned a lot about your character, and I know that having you back on the force will make our streets a safer place for many! I know a lot of people would sleep better knowing our city was protected by dedicated police officers like you and Hutch.

"Thanks, Doc," (A shy smile, dark lashes lowering over cheeks stained with a hint of pink)

"It's I, who should be thanking you, Dave, for your years of unwavering service, for your willingness to risk your life for the lives of others, but you have a chance now to maybe do something different, to maybe have that white picket fence dream of yours. Do you really want me to give you a clean slate for work, because I will, if that's what you want? And believe me, it's not because you've 'snowballed' me; you didn't have to do that, Dave. I can see for myself that you're probably one of the best cops Bay City has to offer. But I want to give you an opportunity to do what you want. So I'm asking you . . . do you really want to remain a cop? Do you really want to go back to the streets?"

"Yes."

"I see. And might I ask what brought about this change of heart?"

"Yeah, you can ask . . ."

* * *

The smell of antiseptic, the quiet hum and beeps from the machines, the rough, scratchy feel of clean sheets, and the soft murmuring of voices down the hall all pulled at the weary brunet, wrenching the detective from the deep slumber induced by the clear drip of morphine that ran through his veins. For a confusing moment, Starsky struggled to clear the haze from his brain, his eyes groggily tracking the lines on the ceiling, slowly shifting downwards to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He didn't need to be a detective to know that he was in a hospital room; he'd been in too many not to figure that out.

The brunet frowned. Last he remembered, they were in Ellen's cabin, flying bullets shattering anything breakable, pain ripping across his upper back and radiating down his useless arm as he tried to sit up on the soft couch, worry and fear causing his heart to flutter as he watched Hutch crawling on hands and knees, making his way over to check on him . . .

Dark blue eyes suddenly widened as he thought of his partner. _Where was Hutch?_ Starsky could feel his heart rate accelerating in panic as he struggled to move his lethargic body into a sitting position, pain flaring at the sudden movement, but the need to watch and protect his partner's back overriding everything else.

"Easy there, Dave," A soft hand stroked his head soothingly and gently pushed him back against the pillows, easing his struggles. "Figures you'd be stubborn enough to regain consciousness even with that amount of morphine pumping through your body. Take it easy, boy, you're as weak as a kitten. They just brought you down from recovery."

Breathing heavily Starsky turned his head and relaxed when he saw Ellen standing next to his bed, reaching over the guardrails to stroke back his curls. He winced as he innately tried to reach out with his left hand, feeling the bandage and sling holding his arm tightly against his chest.

The dark haired detective attempted to swallow, his throat dry and uncooperative, "Wh . . . where's Hu . . ."

"Hutch?" At the brunet's stilted nod, Ellen smiled reassuringly. "He's outside chattin' with the doctor and you should be sleepin'.

"Wha' . . . ha?"

"What happened? Well, we ain't dead if that's what yer askin'." At the disgusted eye roll and quiet snort that came from the bedridden detective, Ellen grinned widely, "But it sure came close to that fer me." The recluse paused and then smiled reassuringly at the brunet who stared up at her.

Starsky frowned as he silently eyed the woman, confusion and weariness making the color of his eyes darken even more. He was so tired, and the fiery fingers of pain were already beginning to make its unwanted presence known; it was difficult to remain focused, but the brunet wanted earnestly to find out what happened at the cabin.

"Ya really don't remember anything that happened back there, d'ya?" Ellen frowned, running her hand gently through the dark curls on the detective's head, probing the egg-sized lump on the back of Starsky's head, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as the brunet winced. "Y'were concussed when you came to mah cabin, ya know that, right?" At the small nod from the brunet, Ellen took out a small penlight from the pocket of her denim shirt and leaned over to peer into the Starsky's eyes, making the detective squint at the sudden glare that pierced his orbs. "Yer pupils are equal and reactive right now. That's a good sign, boy."

"Y'always carry . . . a fla . . flashlight around?"

"Old habits die hard, son," Ellen chuckled. "The surgeon did a great job on removin' that bullet, I checked. Looked over his handiwork and talked to him a few minutes ago. It's gonna take some time and therapy, but I think yer arm's gonna be just fine. Now y'get some shut eye and rest . . ."

"So, what hap'n . . ." Starsky whispered tiredly, dark lashes blinking sporadically to keep the sleep from his eyes. The pain was getting stronger; probably what pulled him from his slumber in the first place.

"Y'saved me, y' idiot . . . that's what happened. Probably made that bullet in your back move and cause more damage to yourself." Ellen sighed; the gentle strokes to the dark curls on the detective's head never stopping.

At the confusion she read in the sea of sapphire, Ellen continued, "That partner of yer's and I were standin' by the window whisperin' when those jackasses started firin', bullets were flying 'round in the cabin and you chose that time t'try and sit up."

"I 'member that . . ." Starsky murmured, feeling the phantom fear and worry that pierced his heart when the gunshots went off, seeing Hutch crawling across the cabin's wooden floor in his mind's eye. "But after that . . . I don' . . ." The brunet shook his head, instantly regretting that small movement as pain reared its ugly head once more.

Ellen sighed, reading the pain the detective tried to mask. "We can talk later. Yer feelin' sore, ain't ya? I'll go call yer surgeon, he's just down the hall. Maybe he can increase yer dosage of morphine so that . . ."

"Jus' . . . tell me . . ." Starsky gasped softly, closing his eyes to surf the pain that was steadily growing stronger. "Wha' . . . happ . . ."

Ellen shook her head, amazed at the tenacity of the hurting brunet. "Yer a stubborn ass, Dave, y' know that, right?" As a small smirk lifted a corner of the detective's mouth, the older woman continued, "Ya probably don't remember 'cause y'passed out soon after hurling yer body off that couch o'mine and shoving me to the floor. Even now, I don't know how you did that, hurt the way you was, but they say an adrenalin rush can do many strange and unexplainable things . . ."

Ellen smiled sadly, her hazel eyes soft and shimmering, "Y'protected me with yer own body, Dave. I was followin' after your partner who was crawlin' over to ya, shoutin' the whole time fer ya t'get down. Both us didn't see it, but you did. That heavy wooden shelf near the couch window was beginning to topple over us, probably would have broken some bones in yer partner's leg, it would've definitely crushed my spine fer sure, but you saw it. Y'just . . ." The recluse shook her head and paused, her eyes lost in memory.

"I don' know how you did it, but y'jus' . . . y'jus dove over the back of the couch, knocking yer partner to the side as you tackled me down, coverin' me with your own body as the shelf collapsed just mere inches from the both of us. Me and Hutch were coughin' with the dust that rose and you . . . you were knocked out. Soon after that we could hear the sheriff hollerin' at Jake and his boys to drop their guns. When it was all over and Sherriff Jonas came into the cabin, he chuckled 'cause all of us were white as ghosts with the fine dust that covered us and the place was a shambles! What're ya smirking at, boy? I never said I was much of a housekeeper," Ellen grinned as Starsky smiled, dark blue eyes still twinkling with mirth despite the pain he was obviously in.

The old recluse leaned over and pressed the button to summon a nurse, informing her of the detective's discomfort when she popped her head in from behind the door. After carefully watching the nurse inject more morphine into the IV line, Ellen waited until the fine lines of pain that etched the brunet's face slowly receded.

Once the nurse left, Ellen shook her head, her hazel eyes growing soft and serious as she whispered, "I know y'wants to quit the force, Dave, and you should. After what I saw at the cabin, aint' no job is worth that kind'a shit, but I can see that yer an officer of the law through and through . . . the need ya have t'serve and protect is ingrained in ya, boy, it's part'a who y'are, and it will always be."

Starsky nodded and wearily closed his eyes; dark lashes hiding the thoughts that rose in his heart as he silently pondered Ellen's words, "Yeah? Seems like . . . those are words you should . . . you should think about too . . . you bein' a doctor and all . . ."

Ellen laughed out loud. "Funny you should say that boy, Jonas said 'bout the same thing at the cabin as he watched me care fer ya while we waited for the ambulance to come. The sheriff said we needed a doctor fer our small town, just fer emergencies and all . . . said I shoud think about it, that I didn't need to leave my cabin to help others, that they could come there and that I could do a lot of good for people . . . that doctorin' was ingrained in my blood . . ."

Starsky nodded, though his lashes never raised, his voice rough and slurring, "Seems li' good advice t'me . . ."

"Huh, what d'ya know," Ellen snorted, "Yer flyin' as high as kite now, boy. Just shut yer pie hole fer now and enjoy this while you can . . ." The woman smiled as she continued to gently stroke the dark curls from the detective's face, remaining quiet until she knew for sure that Starsky was fast asleep. "That's right, son, just enjoy this freedom while y'can 'cause I know that in no time yer gonna be back on those streets servin' and protectin' others. After all, yer just an idiot like me . . . and we idiots need all the reprieve we can get!"

* * *

Hutch looked over his shoulder at his longtime friend who lay resting upon his couch. It had been just a few weeks since Starsky had been released from the small Oregonian hospital and on the long drive back to Bay City, it was agreed upon that Starsky would stay at his partner's for a while until he could get back on his feet once more. Today had been an especially grueling workout at the rehab and the blond winced in sympathy watching his partner grimacing in pain as the curly haired detective carefully massaged his aching shoulder. "You hungry, pal? I can make you a salami sandwich if you want?"

"Nah, too tired to eat," came the soft reply. "Just coffee's fine."

The handsome blond snorted softly, his eyes softening with the affection he felt for his weary partner. Therapy was often times brutal and painful, but so needed; and with the positive results he saw in Starsky's arm each day, Hutch made it a point to never let the brunet skip a session despite the constant whining and complaining he had to endure.

Hutch quickly filled the mug to the brim with the coffee he'd just brewed, grabbed the ice pack he'd just made, and carried both over to his reclining partner, who slowly sat up at his approach. "Here," the blond said quietly, setting the mug carefully on the wooden side table and turning to help Starsky sit up. "Hurting, huh?" the blond asked sympathetically.

"Boy, that therapist can make me see stars sometimes," Starsky admitted with a grin, "Would hate to have to wrestle that broad. Did'ya see the muscles on her biceps?"

Hutch chuckled and nodded picking up the ice pack as he sat beside his longtime friend. Nurse Broderick was quite a bruiser, but the woman was very efficient and knew what she was doing as she worked Starsky's shoulder and arm twice a week, and though the sessions were often times painful, the positive results to the brunet's arm mobility were nonetheless very noticeable.

"Here, let me ice that shoulder." Hutch said as he gently removed Starsky's left arm from the sleeve of his buttoned down shirt. Wincing in sympathy at the soft grunt that came from the brunet, Hutch gently applied the ice pack to the shoulder of his friend, smiling as Starsky closed his eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure. "That feel better?'

"Mmm . . ." Starsky murmured, his body relaxing against the padded cushions of the couch, inadvertently pressing the back of the blond's hand against them.

Hutch smiled as he gazed at his partner and longtime friend; sitting there with his eyes closed, unruly dark curls framing a face filled with peace. The blond knew that if he remained quiet Starsky would soon fall fast asleep, and though Hutch wanted his partner to get some rest, the phone call he'd received in the morning was a nagging reminder that there were pressing things that needed to be discussed.

"What is it?" the gravelly soft voice of Starsky pulled Hutch from his thoughts. The blond looked down at his dark haired counterpart; one cobalt blue eye peeked curiously up at him from under a curtain of lashes. "What's wrong, Blondie?"

Hutch snorted. Leave it to his partner to sense when something of off keel between them. It seemed at times, they could almost sense each other's thoughts, so in tune were they with one another. "Nothing pressing, I just forgot to tell you that Dobey called while you were in the shower this morning."

"Yeah?" Starsky opened his other eye and sat up a little straighter, Hutch moving with him to keep the ice pack in place. "What did he want?"

"He was just asking about you, how you were doing, and if your arm was getting better."

"Huh. That was nice." Starsky grinned. "He's probably glad I'm not there to steal his donuts or put my feet up on his desk."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Hutch grinned back, "I think he misses you. I think he wants you back on the force so he can keep you in line. He told me that you weren't gonna be allowed to play pool anymore."

Both detectives chuckled as Hutch removed the cold pack and began a gentle massage to the iced area. The blond smiled as Starsky sighed with pleasure, but a slight frown marred Hutch's handsome visage as he said, "Dobey also asked if you've made that appointment yet to see the shrink?" Hutch could feel the slight tensing of his partner's body beneath his hands.

"Yeah? What'd ya tell 'im?"

"I told him you haven't as yet done that."

"And?"

"And he said to tell you to get a move on it."

Starsky snorted. "Figures he would say that."

Hutch smiled gently, "Yeah, like I said, I think the Captain misses you."

"Ri-i-ight!" Starsky said, his playful grin turning into a wince as Hutch helped him put on his shirt, placing the strap of the sling over Starsky's neck and then carefully lifting the brunet's left arm into its support. "Take it easy, buddy," the flaxen haired detective whispered soothingly, knowing the slight movement was causing Starsky some discomfort. "There you go, pal. Good as new."

"Thanks Hutch." The blond leaned over to reach for the mug of coffee, but stopped as he felt Starsky's right hand clutch at the sleeve of his shirt. For a suspended moment, light blue eyes searched a sea of sapphire blue before the brunet finally whispered, "I mean, thanks for everything. I don't think I would've made it in those woods if it weren't for you, Hutch."

"Hey, you did the same for me, diving over the couch like that. I swear, Starsky, if you ever pull a stupid stunt like that again . . . I'll kill you myself!"

"Hey, we're partners aren't we?" Starsky replied, his voice softening with affection.

The hard glint in Hutch's eyes dissolved into a wash of gentle blue, "Yeah, we are. Me and thee . . . always, right?"

"Right," Starsky whispered, swallowing down the sudden emotion that rose within, his Adam's apple bobbing spasmodically.

Hutch smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting the love and camaraderie he felt inside for his dark haired partner. "Yeah. Me and Thee." After a quiet pause, Hutch reached over to squeeze his partner's knee. "I need to tell you that I get it now," the blond said softly, his honey smooth voice, soothing and reassuring, "I get how you've been feeling about the job, about Sean, about all the crap we go through on a daily business out there on the streets. And Starsk, I want you to know that I would totally understand and support you if you really wanted to leave the force."

Sapphire colored eyes widened in surprise and searched the blue of the sky, and for a moment both men were lost in thought. The brunet finally broke his gaze, dropping his eyes to his hands as he cleared his throat. "I thought you said that you didn't wanna . . ."

"I know what I said," Hutch cut in, "And I was wrong. Just . . . just listen to me, okay? I guess I didn't want you to do something rash, something you might regret. I know how much you love this job, Starsky. And you're the best detective this city has, but trying to make you do something you don't want to do anymore would be selfish of me." The tall blond cop reached over and passed his partner the steaming mug of coffee.

"Thanks, Hutch," Starsky murmured, long lashes hiding his expressive eyes from the flaxen haired detective who sat beside him. The handsome blond found himself tilting his head to catch the familiar blue that would clue him in to what his partner was feeling and thinking.

"Hey, pal, you okay?" Hutch asked softly, concerned lines making slight furrows between his pale brows. "That's what you want, isn't it . . . to leave?"

"Yeah, but . . ." cobalt blue eyes shifted to peer up at Hutch, worry and guilt making Starsky's irises appear to grow even darker. The brunet sighed softly and looked down into the coffee mug as if all the answers to life's questions were contained in the ceramic cup.

"But what?" Hutch prodded gently, wanting to understand what was making his partner react the way he was. If anything, the blond thought his revelation would make his best friend ecstatic with joy.

Starsky shrugged, but remained silent.

"You're having second thoughts now, Gordo?" Hutch pushed, his heart beating faster against his chest. "I mean, you were pretty adamant about resigning that day we left the cabin and I just thought . . ."

"I don't wanna leave you, Hutch, I mean out there on the streets . . . alone. I don't trust anybody to watch your back out there, except me." Starsky said, dark blue eyes glancing up to read the expression on his partner's face.

Hutch nodded solemnly, pale blue eyes locking on dark sapphire. "And I don't trust anyone else to watch my back either, so I'm going with you . . . gonna quit the force, too. We can do something else, maybe become PI's, or open a pizza store, or . . . something. We'd build houses next door to each other with white picket fences all around and your kids and my kids will run havoc in our neighborhood. Everyone will hate us!"

Starsky snorted, lowering lashes once more to the mug he held in his hands, feeling the coffee growing colder by the minute.

"What is it?" Hutch gently prodded, knowing something was eating away at his partner.

"Yeah, well . . . it's different now, I guess."

"Different? How?"

Starsky sighed and shook his head slowly, replacing the mug onto the table as he tried to put to words all that was in his heart. "I dunno. I just don't want you to do this on account of me. I mean this is your career too, Hutch. I appreciate you wantin' to sacrifice it all for me, but . . ."

"Back in that cave, when you were bleeding out and the rain was falling hard," Hutch softly interjected, crystal blue eyes lost in memory, "I fell asleep. I don't know why I did that, I mean I knew the danger we were in and all, but I . . . anyway I started dreaming."

Starsky raised his head, dark sapphire searching his friend's features, silently encouraging his friend to continue. When nothing came forth, the whispering brunet gently prodded, "What did you dream, Hutch?"

"You . . . they killed you in that alley. Execution style. I saw you fall, saw the back of your head . . .and you said to me before they pulled the trigger . . . you said . . ."

"Hey, hey, buddy," Starsky leaned into his partner's personal space, reaching out to clutch at the blond's shirt with his right had, needing to pull Hutch from his living nightmare, "Hey, it was dream . . . just a dream, pal."

"Almost every night, Hutch, I see you dyin' right before my eyes and there's nuthin' I can do t'save ya."

Hutch sighed and then silently nodded, closing his eyes as he dragged a large hand through his fine golden hair with frustration. "Yeah, I know, but . . . but in that cave, after I woke from that nightmare . . . all I could hear was your voice telling me how you could see me dying every night, right before your eyes, and that there was nothing you could do save me. That's how it was in my dream, Starsk . . ." The handsome blond turned to look his partner in the eye, "You died, in some dirty back alley. They made me watch and there was nothing I could do to save you . . ."

"It was a dream, that's all," Starsky interjected firmly. "We have 'em all the time. It helps us to stay wary, keeps us on our toes. We're cops, Hutch, I guess nightmares are just part of the job."

Hutch frowned, eyeing his stoic partner, the fear of almost losing his partner to some crazy backwoodsmen still fresh in his mind, "So what're you . . ."

"'M just sayin' that it's normal to have nightmares with what we do." Starsky cut in, his voice rough with emotion. "And since we're stayin on the job, we might as well get used to it."

"Staying on the jo . . . wait a minute, when did you make this decision?" Hutch asked incredulously.

Starsky shrugged and looked away. "I dunno . . . now, maybe." The dark haired detective could feel his partner's eyes on him and flushed profusely. "Maybe it was what Ellen said at the hospital."

Hutch arched a pale brow, "Ellen said something to you? When?"

"You were out talkin' to the doc and she was in the room when I first woke up."

"W-wait . . . what? You woke up and she didn't call me?" Hutch sputtered.

"Take it easy, Blondie," Starsky grinned, dark blue eyes peeping up at his red-faced partner through a curtain of long lashes, "I was up for only a few minutes, but she gave me food for thought before I passed out again from the drugs."

"Huh," Hutch huffed, "And what words of wisdom did Ellen impart to you?"

"She said that being a cop was ingrained in me, that the need to serve and protect would always be there, that it was a part of who I am . . . a part of who WE are." A sea of dark sapphire eyes searched a sky of azure blue, looking to see if the tall blond understood all that he was trying to say.

At Hutch's stilted nod, Starsky continued, "I guess being cops is who we are. I mean, we see some horrible stuff on the streets, and I guess what happened to that kid . . . to Sean . . . it shook me, Hutch. All I could think about after awhile was that I couldn't survive if the streets took you too. It paralyzed me, made me sick to my stomach and I wanted to run . . . run far and fast . . . away from the dirt, away from the corruption and stench of the streets . . ."

"So let's do it," Hutch desperately cut in, "We don't have to go back . . . we can start a new life, we could . . ."

"Don't you get it, Blintz?" Starsky whispered, his voice soft and resigned, "There's no running from it. It's who we are. We're cops. It's like Ellen said. The need to serve and protect is ingrained in us. So we get our dream . . . so we quit the force and get our white fenced house and life is good, until one day when we go to the grocery store down the street and its being held up by some punks . . . what are you gonna do, Hutch? Walk away?"

Hutch sighed and lowered his head, knowing his partner knew the answer to that question without him giving an answer.

Starsky snorted softly, cobalt blue eyes softening as he read his partner's face. "It's who we are, Hutch. We're cops. And all this bullshit, these nightmares, what happened to a kid named Sean Fitzgerald . . ."

Hutch looked up then, his light blue eyes searched the brunet's determined face, "Yeah, what about all of that? How are we gonna deal with . . ."

"Hey," Starsky said softly, reaching out to thump his palm against the blond's chest, "We just deal . . . and we deal with it together, like always. Me and Thee . . . who do we trust time."

It was Hutch's turn to snort softly, his large hand lifting to cover his partner's, feeling his own heart thumping beneath their joined hands, beating steadfast and strong.

"And anyway," Starsky continued, his dark blue eyes soft now with affection and emotion, "A wise man once told me, bad things happen to good people all the time. We can't control that, but maybe if you and I are still out there . . . maybe we can still change things for the better in a blink of an eye . . . whadduh ya say, partner?"

A soft chuckle shook the shoulders of the blond and the brunet soon joined in, as laughter grew stronger in the once quiet living room.

* * *

"You ready for this, pal?"

"Yeah. I guess, but I hate going through this crap!"

"I know, buddy, but if anyone can snowball a shrink . . . you're the best!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Blondie!"

Both sets of eyes turned as the door opened and Hutch stood, reaching out to shake the doctor's hand.

"Hey, I'm Detective Ken Hutchinson, and this is my partner, Detective David Starsky."

"Yes, nice to meet you both. I'm Doctor Edward Phillips," the doctor said, shaking Hutch's hand. Turning to look at the dark haired detective who remained sitting, the psychologist looked to the clipboard he was holding and then turned to his opened office door, "After you, Detective Starsky."

Hutch winked and smiled reassuringly as his partner gave him a sick look, the brunet reluctantly following the doctor into his office as the door closed behind him. The tall blond sighed and listlessly picked up one of the many magazines that were strewn over the waiting room's coffee table, his heart and mind still with his partner, wondering how Starsky would fare under the grilling that would soon ensue . . .

* * *

"Why don't you sit down over there? I'm told that armchair is the most comfortable seat I have here in my office . . . how does it feel?"

"Okay."

"Great! Would you like some coffee or tea? I have cream and sugar or . . ."

"Look . . . can we just get to the point? I don't wanna be here and the more small talk you make, just means that it'll take longer to leave."

"Okay. I totally understand, Dave. So . . . why don't you tell me why you're here."

"Read the report on your desk. I'm sure ya know why I'm here."

(A quiet chuckle fills the room.)

"I've read the report, but I'd like to hear it from you. What happened, Dave?"

**~FINIS~**

**A/N: **Many mahalos (thank-yous) go out to those who have stuck with me through this long and arduous journey and have taken the time to leave a word of encouragement and feedback. This story would never have been completed if not for you, dear readers.

Deep respect and abiding love goes out to Brook who has been a constant needle in my side to get this story completed as well as prodding me to start another one. UGH. I don't know how she does it . . . (BG)


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